


"The Angel Stream VII: Thankful"

by Gaedhal



Series: "The Angel Stream" [7]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-10-25 11:05:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 47,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10762977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaedhal/pseuds/Gaedhal
Summary: It's Fall, Brian is still on suspension, and Justin is worried.





	1. Chapter 1

Pittsburgh, October 2005

 

“Hey, Justin.”

Clarence, the manager of the Watermark, the restaurant where Justin worked, called him over to the bus station right next to the kitchen.

“I was just going to take the orders at Table 9,” said Justin. It was only a Wednesday night, but they were still very busy. Justin had just taken the dinner orders for two other tables and the hostess was seating another party in his section.

“That can wait for two minutes,” said Clarence. “Your boyfriend is here again. This is the third night in a row he’s had his ass taking up a stool at the bar, nursing one drink for the entire evening. What’s up with that?”

Justin glanced over to the bar, where Brian was hunched over an Absolut. “He’s waiting to take me home,” Justin explained. “He doesn’t like me driving by myself late at night. He doesn’t think it’s safe.”

“I don’t give a damn if he drops you off and then picks you up,” huffed Clarence. “But what I don’t like is him sitting here all fucking evening until you finish your shift! This is a restaurant, not a waiting room! Doesn’t he have anything better to do with his time?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ramsey,” Justin said, contritely. “Really. It won’t happen again.”

Clarence knew who Justin’s boyfriend was. The infamous Brian Kinney. The Stud of Liberty Avenue – at least formerly. Many times over the years Clarence had seen Kinney arrogantly and confidently presiding over his chosen domain, Babylon, whether the bar, the dance floor, or the backroom. He’d never been picked up by the guy – Clarence wasn’t Kinney’s type by any stretch of the imagination – but he knew guys who had been. And they all said the same thing – Kinney was an amazing fuck, but once that fuck was over, he was the world’s biggest asshole. He never looked at you, never offered you a drink, never even asked your name. Kinney barely allowed a trick to put his pants on before he bounced him straight out the door.

And yet here he was, the Great Brian Kinney, waiting around all evening for the skinny blond waiter he now lived with. How the mighty had fallen!

“Listen, kid, your boyfriend is great-looking,” Clarence said. “But this isn’t a gay bar. In the evening our clientele are mainly couples on dates or celebrating special occasions. And singles hanging out in the bar, looking to make a connection. Your boyfriend just doesn’t fit in, get it?”

Justin took a deep breath. “Yes, I get it, Mr. Ramsey.” You jealous old queen, Justin added to himself.

“All right, then.” Clarence smiled smugly. He didn’t have much going on in his life, especially since he and his boyfriend, Bryce, had broken up the month before, but he had this. The dining room of the Watermark was his domain and he was going to make certain that all his servers knew that. Yes, even Brian Kinney’s twink! 

Let Kinney cool his heels somewhere else – preferably over on Liberty Avenue. So what if most of the waiters who worked at the Watermark, not to mention Clarence himself, were gay? With the political climate in Pittsburgh the way it was, it wasn’t good for business to be perceived as a gay hangout. If Brian Kinney was at the bar every night, then maybe his friends might start coming there, too. It was one thing to have a gay clientele at lunch or out on the patio during the summer, but quite another to have one in the prime evening hours. The Watermark had a reputation as a ‘special occasion’ destination for upscale young couples – and that didn’t include queers.

Justin took the orders for Table 9 and then for the new party that had been seated at Table 11. He had about five minutes before the appetizers for the couple at Table 8 were ready, so he sidled into the bar and touched Brian gently on the shoulder.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey, yourself,” said Brian, turning and smiling.

Justin glanced around to make certain the manager was nowhere in sight. “I hate to tell you this, but fucking Ramsey is giving me a hard time tonight.” 

Brian frowned. “About what?”

“You,” Justin whispered. “He noticed that you’ve been here a couple of nights in a row and he doesn’t like it.”

“What the fuck is his damage?” Brian demanded. “I’m having a drink here! Or doesn’t he think I’m good for it?”

“No,” Justin insisted. “It’s not that.” Justin knew how sensitive Brian was about his current financial setback. His temporary setback. Yes, very temporary. “He doesn’t like the servers to have their... their significant others spending too much time in the restaurant. He thinks it’s a distraction.”

“Asswipe,” Brian muttered.

“I have to get back to my tables.” Justin leaned over to kiss Brian, but then he stopped. Clarence would have a shit-fit if he saw that. Not to mention that it was a kiss at the Watermark that had started all the trouble and gotten Brian suspended from Vangard. It wouldn’t do to have another innocent kiss cause Justin to lose his job, too. “I’ll see you after work.”

“I’ll be waiting outside.”

Brian watched Justin hustle back into the dining room. His head was held high and he had a winning smile on his face for the customers. Damn that kid, thought Brian. Nothing gets him down.

He only wished he could say the same for himself.

Brian paid for his drink and left a tip equal to the bill. 

“Thank you, sir,” said the bartender, scooping up the tip and putting it in his pocket. He grinned at Brian and licked his lips tentatively.

That’s me, Brian thought, always the big shot. Even when I’m barely holding my head above water.

The bartender was hot. At another time and in another place Brian would have taken the guy into the men’s room and fucked the shit out of him. But not anymore. And not because Justin was in the next room. It was something else. Something that had changed within Brian.

Something that had changed on a cold night almost a year before. On Christmas Eve, to be precise.

Brian walked out and got into his Corvette.

He still had about three hours to kill before the end of Justin’s shift.

Time. That’s one thing he had plenty of.

Brian drove off, looking for a place to kill it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diner discussion.

Pittsburgh, October 2005

 

“What’s up, honey?” asked Debbie as Brian sat down at the counter and shrugged off his leather jacket.

“Not much,” Brian admitted.

Debbie leaned her elbows on the counter and regarded Brian. “Sunshine working?” 

It was a slow night at the diner. Stockwell’s goons had upped their patrols of Liberty Avenue recently – they’d had a tip about some troublemakers who were targeting the area, Carl said - and that was keeping men away from the bars and Babylon in droves. No one wanted to be picked up in one of the Anti-Sex Squad’s sweeps and spend the night in the Queens Tank downtown.

“He’s on the dinner shift at the Watermark.” Brian glanced at the menu board. The Pink Plate Special was macaroni and cheese. Fucking carbs on top of fat on top of carbs. Oh, well, he wasn’t really very hungry, even though he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. “He won’t be finished until midnight.”

“I hope they’re doing better over there than we are,” Debbie sighed. “Business has been rotten, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Brian replied. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“How about a nice cup of coffee?” Debbie suggested. “We’re not Starbucks, but we can still make a decent cup of coffee!”

“Why not?” said Brian. I need to keep myself awake. Yeah, if I don’t fall asleep from fucking boredom. Or was it depression? “Sure. Coffee, with....”

“I know,” Debbie guffawed. “Plenty of sugar!”

As Deb poured Brian a cup, she watched him move restlessly on his stool, as if he couldn’t get comfortable. Brian had always been the restless sort. As a boy he’d been in perpetual motion. And as a man, he never seemed satisfied with anything. He was always looking for something bigger. Better. Newer. Something different. Or just something. Something he hadn’t found.

Until he met Justin. Then it appeared he’d found that something he’d been looking for. He relaxed, at least as much as he was capable of relaxing, and his face took on a quieter, more contented expression. Debbie was almost afraid to say that Brian was happy – she was afraid that she’d jinx things – but that’s the way it seemed. The way he’d look at Justin was like he’d never seen anything like him before. And maybe he hadn’t. Because he’d never admitted to himself that he really loved someone before. Oh, yeah, he loved Mikey and Lindsay. And he loved Gus, truly and deeply. But that was different than loving someone the way he obviously loved Justin. That was something completely new for Brian A. Kinney.

“So....” Debbie began. But then she stopped. Oh, what the hell. She’d known Brian since he was 14 years old. She could ask him anything. But whether he wanted to answer was a different story altogether! “How are things going with the job?”

“At a stalemate,” Brian confessed. “Vance says he won’t lift my suspension unless I consent to a new partnership agreement – and I’ll be fucked if I will!”

The contract Gardner presented to Brian had been a joke, full of all sorts of concessions that he knew Brian would never swallow, including one that made clear that Brian could be let go whenever and for whatever reasons Gardner, as the controlling partner, deemed fit. And the kicker was a non-compete clause that virtually guaranteed Brian could never start up his own business anywhere Vangard had a presence, which meant Pittsburgh, of course, but also New York, Chicago, and London – all the centers of the ad game outside of L.A. Not that Brian had the start-up money to open his own agency any time soon, but it was the fucking principle of the thing! He hated to think that the pompous Gardner Vance had him so firmly by the balls! 

“Can he do that?” Debbie asked. She didn’t know much about business, but it all sounded pretty unfair to her. Gardner Vance called all the shots and Brian had to go along with him or hit the road. That didn’t seem right, since Brian was a partner in Vangard, as well as their most talented executive. After all, Brian had singlehandedly run the campaign that got Stockwell elected mayor. Oops, thought Debbie, maybe that’s not such a great example!

“I have a lawyer working on that very question,” said Brian. He twisted the cup of hot coffee between his hands. “An extremely expensive lawyer. But Gardner is the founder, CEO, and chief partner of the Vangard Agency. And I’m a lowly, troublemaking faggot who insulted a client and... well, let’s just say that my personal life hasn’t exactly been exemplary. The reality is that if Gardner wants me gone, then I’ll be gone, one way or another. The only thing left to haggle over is the cash settlement he’ll have to fork over to get rid of me. And I don’t want to leave unless I get what I’m worth.”

“Jesus,” said Debbie. “That sounds like a nasty divorce!”

“That’s precisely what it is,” Brian conceded. “A very messy business divorce, with Gardner Vance as the evil, wealthy husband and me as the beautiful, wronged wife.” As much as he disliked the idea of being anyone’s wife, let alone Gardner Vance’s, Brian smiled to himself at the analogy. “And if I don’t get a little alimony soon, I’m going to be majorly fucked!”

Debbie frowned. No wonder Justin was working so much! Brian was broke and too proud to admit it!

“Are things that bad, baby?” she asked with real concern. “Do you need money? Maybe me and Carl can loan you a little something to tide you and Sunshine over?”

“Christ, no!” Brian barked. “I was only kidding! Things are fine. Just fine.” He paused, gripping his cup of coffee tightly. “Justin and I are budgeting our money. And I have plenty of savings and investments to tide us over until Gardner finally gives in. Then I can settle down and find another job. Or maybe I can go into business for myself. Open my own agency. Be my own boss. That way I’ll never have to deal with pricks like Gardner Vance again! I’ll write my own fucking ticket! So don’t worry about me, Deb. I’m great. Really, really great.”

“You do that, honey,” Debbie nodded, not believing a single word. The idea of Brian Kinney even saying the word ‘budget’ out loud was something she’d never thought she’d hear. But then she never thought she’d live to see the day when Brian Kinney was living with someone, either! When pigs could fly, as Grandma Grassi used to say!

Brian glanced at the clock on the wall over the grill. Still an hour and a half before Justin’s shift ended. Maybe he should just go home and get online. He’d already done research on the cities he’d most like to relocate to. New York. San Francisco. Los Angeles. South Beach. Honolulu. Chicago. But he knew those were longshots at best. Vance would make certain that his fucking name was mud at all the best agencies. He also had a list of secondary places he hadn’t checked out yet. Atlanta. Washington. Charleston. Boston. Seattle. And after that it was down the list all the way. Denver. Charlotte. Dallas. Phoenix. Salt Lake City. Cleveland. Houston. Anchorage. Buffalo. Scranton. Brian shuddered. He’d rather take a job as a fucking waiter himself than go to that agency in Scranton at a fraction of his target salary!

But he might have to. Unless Gardner came around. Brian knew from his spy, the incomparable Cynthia, that things were not so peachy at Vangard. Ken Wilson and Phil Millard had botched up the Sutton account badly. Lloyd Sutton had taken his homophobic ass, along with his chain of diet and fitness centers, back to Avon and Singleton Associates to give them another chance at turning his ad campaign around. Cynthia told Brian that Gardner was livid about losing Sutton. But she also said that he blamed Brian more than the talentless Wilson and Millard. In fact, Vance had taken to blaming Brian for everything that went wrong at the agency. Yes, Brian, who wasn’t there to defend himself, was a convenient scapegoat for all the perceived ills at Vangard.

“How about a sandwich, honey?” Debbie suggested. “Or I can whip you up a nice omelet. When was the last time you ate a full meal, huh?”

“I’m not hungry,” Brian insisted. “Really. Just give me a refill on this coffee and I’ll be okay.” He tapped the cup and gave her a half-hearted smile. “I already told you, Deb – I’m great. I’m always great! I’m Brian Kinney, remember?”

“Yeah,” said Debbie. He was Brian Kinney. Now she was really worried. “I remember. How could I ever forget?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cure for everything.

Pittsburgh, October 2005

 

The moment they stepped into the elevator, Brian began stripping off Justin’s clothes.

“Brian, hang on a sec,” said Justin. “I’d like to get a shower first. I’m all grungy and smelly.”

“Good,” Brian replied, tugging at Justin’s fly. “I like a cock with a little flavor.”

The elevator lurched to a stop and Brian pushed the door open while Justin got out his key.

“I’m planning to fuck you all night,” Brian breathed on Justin’s neck as he pressed his growing erection against him.

“Don’t forget that I have my class tomorrow morning,” Justin reminded him as he opened the loft door. “I can’t miss it.”

Justin had planned to take two classes at Carnegie Mellon that fall, Art History and Figure Drawing, but Brian’s continued suspension from Vangard had caused him to rethink his plan. Instead, he took on more hours at the Watermark and only audited a single class, the drawing studio.

“Don’t worry. I think we’ll be finished by then,” Brian said as he licked the back of Justin’s neck. “Hm, this is better than the entire menu at the Watermark and the Liberty Diner combined.”

“You’re such a fuck hound, Brian!” Justin laughed and gave him a gentle push.

“Woof,” Brian smirked.

“Hey, there’s a message on the machine,” said Justin, noticing the flashing light. He put down his gym bag and headed for the desk.

“Leave it,” said Brian, kicking off his boots and then dropping his jeans to the hardwood floor.

“But it might be important!” Justin asserted.

Brian snorted as he pulled off his sweater. “Nothing is more important right now than my dick in your ass!” 

Justin gave Brian his ‘behave yourself’ look. “I just want to check the message. It might have something to do with my class.” He pressed the button for the playback.

“Justin – it’s Denny Duggan. Call me back as soon as you can, even if it’s late. I’m at my parents’ house.” Then he left a number.

“Denny? Isn’t that your roommate from Dartmouth?” Brian asked. He was already naked and standing with his hands on his hips, waiting.

“Yeah.” Justin frowned. “I wonder what’s going on in Boston?”

“Call him in the morning,” said Brian, tugging at Justin’s arm. “What’s going on right HERE is the only thing I’m interested in.”

“I better get back to him, Brian,” Justin insisted. “Five minutes, okay?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Three minutes – tops! Or else I’ll come and get you!” He turned and strode towards the bedroom. 

Justin looked at Brian’s firm, pale ass with admiration. “I’ll be there shortly. I promise.”

“And I’ll be up here – longly!” Brian snarked and disappeared up the steps and into the bedroom.

But five minutes came and went and Justin was still talking to his former roommate. Then ten minutes. And fifteen.

Brian stared at his flagging erection and finally got out of bed. 

“Hey, Taylor! Get the fuck in here and take care of my cock before I get out my cell and call ‘Asses R Us’ for a replacement!”

“I’ve got to go, Denny,” Justin said into the phone. “Brian is getting impatient. Yeah, I know!” he laughed. “I’ll call you this weekend and let you know for sure. Bye.”

Justin peeled off the rest of his clothes as he bounced up the steps to the bedroom.

“It’s about time!” Brian huffed.

Justin fell on top of his lover. “Sorry about that. But I couldn’t very well blow Denny off.”

“You better not be blowing him in any way, twat.” Brian pulled Justin closer. “Remember how I warned you about straight boys? They might be good one-time fucks, but you can never trust them. They always head back to pussy the first chance they get. Take that from the voice of experience.”

“Eew! I’d never have sex with Denny!” Justin made a disgusted face thinking of his skinny, red-haired friend. “He’s SO not my type!

“What the fuck was so important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? Or next week? Or even next year?” Brian was already guiding Justin’s head towards his expectant cock.

Justin looked at Brian seriously. “He wanted to know if we could come to Boston in three weeks. November 16th.”

Brian stopped. “Why the fuck does he want us to go to Boston then? It’s too late for Halloween and too early for a Dartmouth reunion.”

“Not a reunion,” Justin announced. “A wedding.”

“Wedding?” Brian coughed. Simply hearing the word ‘wedding’ gave him a dull pain.

“Denny wants me to be his best man,” Justin said. “Carole’s pregnant and they’re Catholics, so they can’t wait until next June. So can we go? What do you say, Brian?”

“What do I say?” Brian grimaced. He suddenly had a flashback of his own parents, a pair of idiots who had made a similar mistake 38 years before, with disastrous consequences. “The only thing there is to say – holy shit and good fucking luck!”

“I guess that means yes,” Justin grinned.

“Yes,” said Brian. “Now get to it.”

He watched the blond head bob up and down on his dick, but Brian’s mind kept straying. Wandering to places he didn’t want it to go. 

So he flipped Justin over and buried any rambling thoughts deep inside his round, pink, and pliant ass.

That was Brian’s cure for everything.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween Party at Babylon.

Pittsburgh, Halloween 2005

 

“Omigod!” cried Emmett as he and Ted walked into Babylon for the annual Halloween Tricks and Treats Party. “This is going to be so much FUN!”

“Yeah,” sighed Ted, wincing at the ear-splitting level of the music. “Whoa, boy – Fun, fun, fun.”

“Come on, Teddy,” Em urged. “Don’t be such a big party pooper! I’ve been looking forward to this FOREVER!”

Ted had to admit that was true. Emmett had spent weeks planning his costume. He knew that he had to top past years when he had appeared as Aretha Franklin, Reba McEntire, Jackie O, Cho Cho San the Geisha, and his own personal favorite, Barbra Streisand. He thought about doing one of the Great Divas of the Past, but any queen in town could easily impersonate Judy or Bette or Madonna or even Mae West. Besides, Darren was planning on coming as Joan Crawford in ‘Mommie Dearest’ and Emmett didn’t want anyone to think he was copying him by going ‘classic.’ 

Since he was tall and knew he could carry off a giant wig, a gold sequined and feathered gown, and a huge pair of platform shoes, Em decided to go as the Eighties Retro Ru Paul. It was truly inspired! 

Ted, who looked forward to Halloween about as much as he looked forward to a root canal, was wearing his leather gear. After an extremely short period of time as an old college friend’s B&D/S&M suck pig, Ted had packed away his leather chaps, jacket, and cap, and now only took them out once a year for Tricks and Treats.

“I wish you’d picked another costume, Teddy,” said Emmett. “This is the fourth year in a row you’ve worn those old leathers. Everyone’s already seen them!”

“So what?” Ted shrugged. “No one is going to be looking at me anyway. Especially with you next to me, honey-bunny.”

“That is SO sweet!” Em cooed. “I just LOVE you to pieces!” Emmett gave Ted a kiss and a big hug. “Look! There’s Michael and Ben!”

Leaning against the bar were Captain Astro and Galaxy Lad, a.k.a., Ben and Michael Novotny-Bruckner. The couple had also worn those same costumes for a number of years, but Michael loved dressing up as the two superheroes so much that Ben didn’t have the heart to suggest something else, even though his Captain Astro tights were more than a little ratty.

“Wow, Em!” Michael exclaimed. Between the platforms and the blonde bouffant wig, Emmett looked about seven feet tall. “That’s some outfit! How high are those shoes?”

“Oh, five or six inches, give or take a bit,” Emmett said as he proudly struck a pose.

“How do you walk in them?” asked Ben.

“Just like you get to Carnegie Hall, sweetie! Practice, practice, practice!” Em explained.

“I didn’t know Diana Ross was supposed to be that tall,” said Michael, noting what looked like Emmett’s heavy use of spray-on tan.

“Diana Ross?” Em recoiled. “Michael, you’re impossible! Don’t you know Ru Paul when you see her?”

“Oh, sorry.” Michael glanced at Ben, who shook his head. “I guess I’m not up on my drag queens. You look nice, too, Ted.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Ted replied. He’d already motioned to the bartender and was clutching a safe bottle of Perrier. Halloween was one of those holidays when Ted wished he could still have a drink. Booze made the forced merriment seem a little less coerced. And this year felt especially forced. The shadow of Stockwell’s ‘Family Friendly Pittsburgh’ was hanging heavily over Babylon. No one could miss the heightened presence of the Anti-Sex cops or the extra squad cars patrolling Liberty Avenue.

“Where’s Brian and Justin?” asked Em. “I want them to see my Ru Paul before the Costume Parade!”

“By this time in the old days Brian had already been to the backroom a couple of times,” Michael pointed out. Brian didn’t make a big deal about any holiday, treating each one the same way he treated most things – with studied indifference. “But I haven’t seen him yet tonight. Maybe they aren’t coming.”

“Oh, they’re coming all right,” Emmett asserted. “Justin told me that he was working on his costume, but he wouldn’t tell me what it is. He wanted it to be a surprise!”

“I think you’re in luck,” said Ted. “Because here they are.”

“SWEETIE!” Emmett yelped as the pair approached the bar. 

“What do you think, Em?” Justin grinned and turned around so Emmett could see the full effect. 

He was wearing a pair of white Calvin Klein briefs, running shoes, and two large, white, fluffy, and awkward wings that were strapped to his torso. The wings were heavier than Justin had anticipated and he had the constant sensation of being tipped over backwards, but all in all he thought the costume was a success. In fact, that’s why he and Brian were late – Brian thought it was such a success that he couldn’t wait to get it off him, which meant Justin had to get cleaned up and dressed all over again after they finished fucking.

“You look so CUTE!” Emmett maintained. “It’s the PERFECT choice!”

“Yeah, baggy underpants are such a fashion statement,” Brian snarked. Then he ordered double Absoluts for the two of them.

“You didn’t seem to mind earlier,” Justin commented, raising his eyebrows.

“I was only interested in what was UNDER the underpants,” Brian replied. “You should have seen Angel Boy trying to get into the Jeep with those wings! Fucking forget it!”

“I had to take them off and put them back on when we got here,” Justin admitted. “And it’s starting to get really cold outside. You don’t realize how cold until you’re standing on the sidewalk in nothing but your briefs! I had goosebumps on my goosebumps!”

“I can vouch for that,” Brian added. And to the amazement of everyone, he leaned over and put his lips on Justin’s bare shoulder, sucking at an imagined bump. “Very tasty!”

“So who are you supposed to be, Bri?” Ted sniffed. 

Brian was dressed in a faded pair of 501’s, a black sleeveless shirt with silver snaps, boots, and a black leather jacket.

“I’m Brian Kinney,” he stated flatly.

“Come on, Brian!” said Michael. “You’re supposed to be in costume! Like us!” He pointed to the Galaxy Lad ‘G’ on his chest and then at Ben’s Captain Astro get-up. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“When you’re Brian Kinney, you don’t require a costume,” Brian pronounced. “Halloween is all about boring people indulging in their fantasies and revealing who they really want to be besides their own dull selves. But it’s obvious that I don’t need to pretend to be anyone else. I’m exactly who and what I want to be.”

“You’re so full of shit, Brian!” Emmett scoffed.

“Spoken by a grown man dressed like a fucking Las Vegas nightmare!” said Brian, eyeing Emmett’s platform shoes, feathers, and wig. “Better to be myself than full of delusions like some queers I know. What’s the matter, Emmett? I thought you’d be decked out as the Happy Homemaker this year. Or Martha Stewart. And that Theodore would be dressed as Ward Cleaver. Or a pathetic dickless fag. No, wait – that’s what he is every day. So, how IS your little Vine-Covered Cottage? Trash-compactor working okay?”

“It’s working just FINE, thank you!” Emmett huffed. “Jesus, Brian! It’s Halloween! Can’t you have a little fun like a normal person?”

Brian looked around at all the costumed revellers. “I seem to be the only ‘normal’ person here.” He bolted down the rest of his Absolut, set his empty glass on the bar, and grabbed Justin’s elbow. “Come on, Angel Boy. Let’s dance.”

On the dance floor Justin sighed as he leaned against Brian. “It’s a Halloween party, Brian,” he murmured. “What’s the point in tweaking Emmett? He’s only trying to forget all the shit he has to put up with the rest of the year. The shit all of us put up with.”

“But that’s the thing,” Brian said. “We put up with it. And THEY give us shit because they can. And because they know we’ll put up with it. Because we’re only fags.”

“You do what you can do,” said Justin. “And the rest you just have to deal with. That’s what you’ve taught me, isn’t it?”

“Be quiet now,” Brian said, closing his eyes and clinging to Justin. The crowded dance floor suddenly seemed to hold only two. “I need your magic, Angel Boy. Spread those wings around both of us.”

Justin smiled in contentment. “I will.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble at Babylon.

Pittsburgh, Halloween 2005

 

The highlight of the Tricks and Treats Party was the Costume Parade. 

On the raised, lighted platform at the end of the dance floor all of the contestants took their turn at showing off their costumes – and soliciting the approbation of the audience, who would ultimately decide the winner. This solicitation usually took the form of twirling, dancing, vogueing, flirting – and sometimes, for the more daring competitors, a little more.

“Very little!” snarked Brian, as a guy dressed as a gladiator thrust his pelvis at the hooting crowd.

“Here comes Emmett!” said Michael. “He really looks great!”

Em strutted across the stage, only tripping slightly as one of his platform shoes caught on an uneven spot. But Emmett righted himself and grinned his gap-toothed smile as he flounced and showed off his golden gown with its sequins and feathers. Godiva would have been proud, he thought. Not too bad for a skinny white boy!

There was a lot of loud clapping, especially from the contingent leaning against the main bar, but nowhere near enough to win.

“Emmett could be Ru Paul himself and still not win,” Brian pointed out. “No queen, no matter how great the costume, is going to get enough applause from this horny group.”

“Maybe I should get up there!” said Justin, getting into the spirit of the competition. “What do you say, Brian?” 

“Over my dead body!” Brian huffed. And he wasn’t kidding. It was bad enough to have a bunch of guys gape at Justin’s baggy underpants on the dance floor, but to let the twat climb on stage and have all of Babylon ogle his surprising large bulge was NOT an option.

A muscular bear in full leather gear stomped across the stage to a barrage of catcalls. He stood and scowled at the crowd – and then opened his leather pants and flashed his dick as the place erupted in cheers. The bear grinned and took a bow.

“That was a mistake,” Brian asserted, shaking his head. “A big fucking mistake!”

“All in good fun, Bri,” said Ted, who was impressed by the bear’s performance. “No harm done.”

“You think so, Theodore?” Brian glanced around. “I supposed you think that Stockwell doesn’t have a bunch of his goons in here just waiting to close this party down? Showing your dick is against the law in ‘Family Friendly Pittsburgh,’ in case you happened to forget – even in a gay club on Halloween!”

But the bear had opened the floodgates and the next three competitors all took out their cocks and waved them at the raucous assembly. The one with the largest ‘applause’ was declared the winner.

As the winner, a barechested blond in a silver g-string and nothing else, accepted his prize – a gift certificate at Slings & Eros – he couldn’t resist showing off his attributes once more. But this time he began stroking his cock as the crowd went wild, urging him on.

That’s when a loud whistle sounded. And Stockwell’s cops were suddenly on the stage and at every door.

“No one move!” ordered a tall policeman in a long leather coat. “This club is now officially closed under Section 493, Subsection 10, Promoting Lewd and Immoral Behavior!”

Then someone screamed and all hell broke loose inside Babylon.

“Shit!” Brian cried. He didn’t wait another moment, but grabbed Justin by the arm and dragged him through the confused mob, looking for an exit that wasn’t blocked by Stockwell’s goons.

Brian instinctively headed for the old backroom. He knew there was a storage room just off the entry – and inside that storage room was a firedoor that opened on the rear alley.

“Where are we going?” cried Justin as they were buffeted by panicked men seeking a way out of the building.

“Hang on to me!” Brian ordered. “And don’t fucking let go!”

Brian pulled at the door of the backroom, praying that it was unlocked. It opened and he and Justin slipped through. It was pitch black inside, but Brian knew the place like the back of his hand. He felt for the storage room, found it, and led Justin in. Then he moved to the far wall, following the dimly lit Exit sign. He shoved hard on the handle of the door...

And they were outside. The fire alarm began ringing madly behind them.

“Hey! You two!” a harsh voice called.

“Don’t stop,” Brian exhorted as they raced down the alley towards Liberty Avenue. “Unless you want to spend the night in the Queens Tank with half of the queers in Pittsburgh!”

“But what about Michael and Ben?” Justin asked. “And Emmett and Ted?”

“They’ll be okay,” Brian said, hoping he was right. “But I can’t afford to be arrested again – and I won’t let them arrest you, no matter what!” They paused for a moment at they approached the street. “Take off those fucking wings! Hurry!”

Justin’s trembling fingers unhooked the straps and let the wings fall to the ground. He shivered, wearing nothing but his briefs and running shoes.

Brian took off his leather jacket and Justin hurriedly slipped it on.

“Come on!” said Brian. “The Jeep is parked at the top of Barker Place. Let’s fucking move!”

Liberty Avenue was chaotic, as men in costume darted every which way, trying to avoid the patrol cars and policemen who were spread out up and down the street. A brace of police vans stood waiting to transport the night’s catch downtown. 

They had almost reached the Jeep when a dark figured loomed in front of them, blocking the way.

“Let’s see your I.D.!” he barked. He was a hard-faced older man with a gray crewcut and on his jacket he wore the emblem of the Anti-Sex Squad. One of Stockwell’s infamous Stormtroopers. “Make it snappy!”

Brian took a deep breath, shielding Justin behind him. “Certainly, officer.” He took out his wallet and presented the cop with his license.

He glanced at it and frowned. “Kinney, huh?” he snorted, tossing the license back to Brian. “I know that name. You’re Jim Stockwell’s pet faggot.”

“I ran the advertising for his mayoral campaign,” Brian replied, trying to keep control. It wouldn’t do to lash out at this prick. It wasn’t only his ass on the line, but Justin’s, too.

“And what about you, Blondie?” the cop said sharply. “I see you back there, hiding behind your boyfriend.”

“I... I don’t have my wallet with me.” Justin was horribly aware that he was standing half-naked on the sidewalk without any I.D. – two crimes in ‘Family Friendly Pittsburgh.’ “But I’m 22. I swear I am.”

“We haven’t done anything wrong, officer,” Brian said, his voice even. “We’re on our way home. That’s all.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you weren’t in that faggot club that we just raided?” the cop snapped.

“We’re on our way home,” Brian repeated. He put his arm around Justin and pulled him close.

“What happened to Blondie’s clothes? Is he an underwear model? Or did you win him in a Halloween contest?” the cop guffawed. “You a hustler, kid? You work Liberty Avenue?”

“No,” Justin spoke up. “I’m a student. Please let us go, sir.” Then something clicked in Justin’s memory. “I mean, sergeant.”

“That’s better,” said the cop, grinning wolfishly. “I like a boy who’s polite.” He got out his walkie talkie and turned away, speaking into it.

“Brian,” Justin whispered. “That’s the cop who stopped me last August. After I left the diner. Remember? He asked to see my I.D.”

“Are you sure?” Brian murmured.

Justin nodded. A chill wind had whipped up and he was trembling violently now. “I’m certain. It’s the same guy.”

“Don’t say anything else,” Brian warned. 

Justin hid his face against Brian’s chest. Brian stood strong and still, but Justin could hear his heart beating wildly.

The cop turned back to the pair. Brian stared at the man’s remorseless face. His eyes were cold and dead-looking. Brian shuddered, as if a cat had walked over his grave.

“You two pansies get the fuck out of here,” he commanded. “They need me over at the club. We got bigger fish to fry tonight. But don’t let me catch you without your I.D. again, Blondie. Or else you and me will take a little ride. Just the two of us. You know what I mean?” Then the cop laughed. 

The sound of that heartless laughter chilled Brian to the bone. He clutched at Justin protectively.

Then Sergeant Kenneth Rikert stalked away, heading back towards Babylon.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Impasse.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

“So, Brian,” said Gardner Vance. “It appears we’re at an impasse.”

“We don’t have to be, Gardner,” Brian returned. “It’s simple – all you have to do is agree to my terms. And I’ll be back in my office tomorrow.”

“Simple?” Gardner huffed. “You think these terms are simple? You want me to delete the non-compete clause. You want complete control over your own accounts. You also want me to ignore your personal behavior – no matter how egregious it may be – as long as it does not impact your work at Vangard. And you want me to initiate benefits for same sex domestic partners, not just for you, but for the entire agency.”

“Seems reasonable to me,” said Brian. “Not only reasonable, but fair.”

“Fair?” Gardner laughed humorlessly. “Because all of these things are to your advantage. What’s in it for me? I am, after, still the founder and CEO of this company. I should be getting something out of this.”

“You are getting something,” Brian asserted. “You’re getting me. And, in case you haven’t noticed, you’ve been losing accounts – MY accounts – because the people you’ve replaced me with can’t do my job. Vangard touts itself as one of the best agencies in the country, but can you really say that at this moment? You lost the Sutton account outright. You lost Dandy Lube. You’re on the verge of losing Eyeconic Optics and Brown Athletics. And I know you especially don’t want to lose Brown, do you, Gardner? That’s your prize account – an account I got for you when you couldn’t get it yourself!”

“We’re not about to lose Brown,” said Gardner through clenched teeth. “Who told you that?”

Brian smiled. “I have my sources. Leo Brown isn’t happy at all. He wants to know what’s going on. He wants to know why I’m not here, handling his account.”

“If you’re such a great ad man, then why hasn’t some other agency snapped you up, Brian?” Gardner hissed. “Why are you here, trying to strong-arm me, instead of relaxing in a large office at a new agency on Madison Avenue?”

Brian bit his lip. There was the rub. The great unsaid. 

“Because you’ve been poisoning the waters, Gardner,” Brian said slowly. “You’ve been spreading dirt about me all over the industry. Yes, some of it is true, but other things are pure bullshit – and you know it! Yes, I’m gay! So the fuck what? But I’m not a criminal! I’m not a loose cannon! I’m a guy who knows his worth and wants to be valued for how I do my job, rather than condemned for how I live my life. Maybe that’s impossible in Pittsburgh under the Stockwell regime, but I’m still willing to try. I’m still willing to work with you. But if you aren’t willing to work with me, then cut me loose. But give me my fair share. I’ve contributed to this partnership and you know it.”

“And what if you and your little boyfriend had been arrested the other night at that club you frequent?” Gardner offered. His eyes were flinty. “What’s it called? Babylon?”

“My personal life is no one’s fucking business but mine!” Brian felt his face getting hot. “Mine – and my partner’s. My REAL partner’s”

“That remains to be seen,” Gardner said sourly.

“And how to do you know that I was almost arrested?” Brian asked. “How do you know I was even at Babylon for the Halloween party? If I wasn’t, in fact, arrested, then there’s no record that I was there. Unless Jim Stockwell’s goons and spies are reporting on me – and he’s passing on the information to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Brian,” Gardner replied. “I think you’re a little paranoid.”

“Paranoid my ass,” Brian nodded. “But you’ll notice that all the charges against the men who were arrested that night ended up being dismissed. Dismissed because they were like everything about Stockwell’s high-handed tactics – total fucking horseshit!”

“You’re talking about one of our most esteemed clients,” Gardner said sternly. “And a close, personal friend of mine.”

“Yeah, he said that about me, too.” Brian stood up and put on his leather jacket. “And look where it got me. So, what’s it going to be? Am I returning to this happy realm? Or are you going to pay me off so I can get on with my life?”

Gardner went to the door of his office and opened it. “My lawyers are still considering all of our options. They’ll be in touch.”

Brian walked through the door. Justin, who had been cooling his heels in the outer office, leapt to his feet. 

Brian raised his eyebrows. “Gardner, you remember Justin.”

Gardner Vance sniffed, but extended his hand. “Certainly. How are you, young man?”

Justin took Vance’s hand and shook it firmly. He detested Brian’s boss, but he also remembered his country club manners. “I’m fine, thanks, Mr. Vance.”

“Don’t forget to remind your lawyers about the partners’ benefit,” Brian added before he and Justin went out. “I know I’m not the only one at this agency who could make use of them. Look around, Gardner – because we’re everywhere, whether you like it or not.”

Brian gave Vance an ironic grin and guided Justin out the door.

“What was that about?” Justin asked as they got into the elevator. “About partner benefits?”

“Something for Vance to think over,” Brian replied. “Well, it looks like we’ll be driving to Boston instead of flying and staying at a Motel 6 instead of at the Four Seasons. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” Justin said truthfully.

“You really don’t, do you?” Brian marvelled. The elevator stopped at the lower level parking garage and the two of them headed for the Jeep.

“Nope.” Justin buttoned up his pea coat as they walked. “My parents always had plenty of money. We belonged to the Arcadian Country Club and lived in a big house in an exclusive suburb. At Christmas and on our birthdays Molly and I used to get tons of expensive gifts. We always stayed at really nice hotels when we went on vacation. I went to St. James’ Academy and then to Dartmouth – and my dad paid cash for me to go to both places. But in the long run it was all fucking meaningless. My father pretends I don’t exist, my mother practically bursts into tears every time she sees me, and I almost never see my sister at all. I’m working as a waiter at the Watermark instead of at Taylor Electronics – but I don’t give a shit. I’d rather be a waiter and be able to pursue my art than work with my dad and make a lot of money doing something I hate.” They stopped next to the Jeep and Justin unlocked it. “And I’d rather be with you, Brian, no matter what. Even if we were living in a crummy apartment instead of the loft. Or sleeping on a mattress on the floor. As long as I was sleeping next to you, that’s all that matters to me. Really.”

Brian shook his head. “I’m almost starting to believe that.”

“You better believe it!” Justin exclaimed. “Now get your ass into the Jeep! I’m taking you to lunch – my treat!”

“Ever heard the term ‘bossy bottom’?” Brian laughed. “I think I’m truly and royally fucked!”

“You think so?” Justin grinned. “Just wait until we get home!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A B&B in Boston.

Boston, November 2005

 

The stately old redbrick house in the South End had been meticulously restored and decorated with Victorian Era antiques. Slightly faded oriental rugs covered the hardwood floors, and massive, overstuffed chairs and sofas were crammed into every room like homey elephants. Ticking clocks that gently chimed the hour sat on the mantels of the original fireplaces that were a feature of the establishment. Nathaniel and Preston Wellington-Bradford were especially proud of the care they had taken to make their guesthouse the finest in their trendy, gay-friendly neighborhood.

But to Brian, it like checking into Motel Hell itself.

“Why the fuck do I do these things to myself?” he moaned as he surveyed the antique-encrusted nightmare that was their room for the next three days.

“I think it’s pretty nice,” said Justin, unpacking his suitcase. “And it’s a lot better than a Motel 6!”

“At least a Motel 6 is meant to be horrific,” Brian griped. “It’s created to be bland and barren, as empty of meaning as a place can be – all plastic and cardboard and identical prints of nameless beaches on the wall. A room to sleep in, fuck in, or kill yourself in – and nothing else! But this...” Brian shuddered. “This truly is a fucking atrocity.” He fingered the antimacassar that adorned the back of a lumbering piece of furniture that purported to be a chair. “Even the fucking chairs have their own doilies!”

“We could have stayed at the Duggans’ house in Southie,” Justin pointed out. The Duggans lived in a predominantly Irish neighborhood not far from the South End in distance, but a world apart in attitude and tradition. “Denny said that his mother set up some extra cots in the boys’ room and that we were welcome to use them.”

Brian winced. “Tell me again why we drove for 10 hours to be subjected to the pleasures of Queer and Not-So-Queer Boston, not to mention the endless parade of the extended Clan Duggan?”

“So that I can be Denny’s Best Man,” Justin replied serenely as he continued unpacking. “And so you can wear your midnight blue Armani tux.”

“I guess so,” Brian muttered. “I knew there was one good reason.”

Justin was used to Brian’s method of venting by now. At first the acerbic way Brian bitched about things that didn’t meet his immediate approval had unnerved Justin. His WASP sensibilities had been trained to downplay his true feelings about things. Strong opinions, strong displays of emotion, and strong language had always been frowned upon in the Taylor home, as well as the environs of the Arcadian Country Club and St. James Academy. Smiling and being polite and gracious on the surface was the norm, even when it went against every honest impulse you possessed. That’s what Justin had been taught. And until he’d come out to his parents, he’d rarely seen either one of them raise their voices or make a critical comment – at least in front of him.

But Brian was a completely different story. He seemed to have no difficulty in loudly declaring exactly what he was on his mind at that moment, even if it was something outrageous, obscene, or hurtful. It was as if the little editing device other people had in their heads that kept inappropriate comments from reaching their mouths had been turned off in Brian’s. Justin had heard him say things to his best friend, Michael, that would get any other man punched in the mouth. And the remarks that he made to Ted and Emmett made Justin marvel that he was still friends with them.

And then there were the comments that he sometimes made to Justin. Off-hand, but still wounding. Speculating on why they were together. Wondering why he was tying himself down to some blond piece of ass. Some twink. Some little twat. Some boytoy who would only abandon him one day when he found someone better. Or something better. 

Those words had made Justin go cold inside. Was that what Brian really believed? That Justin was only using him? That he didn’t actually love him and would leave him the second some better prospect came along?

But then Brian would hold onto Justin in the dark. Cling to him like he was afraid he would disappear right out from under him. Like he really believed that one day he’d be left sitting alone, the walls of the loft echoing with an oppressive silence all around him.

Justin began to understand that down deep inside Brian was terrified. The cutting remarks and the disdainful declarations were not about Justin, or Michael, or even Ted and Emmett – they were about Brian himself. About his own fear of abandonment. About things that had happened to him long ago. About his dead father and his shadowy mother. And about Brian’s fervent, private belief that no one would ever truly love him.

Brian’s bitching and snarking and complaining were part of the wall he had constructed to protect himself from that fear. It was a wall that was slowly crumbling, but Brian still struggled to put bricks into place, even as Justin was quietly and steadily knocking them down.

“The wedding,” Justin reminded him again. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Fucking weddings,” Brian sniffed. “Followed swiftly by a hoard of snot-nosed kids. ‘First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes poor old Denny pushing the baby carriage!’” he recited.

“I don’t think he minds,” said Justin. “Denny told me that he and Carole want a lot of kids. They’re just starting on them a little sooner than they expected to.”

“And then the nasty divorce!” Brian ran his hand through his hair nervously. “The accusations! The recriminations! The lawyers!”

“Not everyone gets a divorce, Brian,” said Justin, thinking of his own parents. His mother had told him that she and his father were going to couples’ counseling. As much as he was pissed off at his father, Justin didn’t want his parents to break up, especially for his sister Molly’s sake. “Look at Mr. and Mrs. Duggan – they’ve been married for almost 25 years.”

“A life sentence,” Brian murmured. “And eight kids! Irish fucking Catholics!”

“Takes one to know one, Brian,” Justin smirked. “Your parents never got a divorce.”

“Well, they should have,” he sighed as he stared at the elaborate cuckoo clock on the mantel, wondering where he could get a mechanical cat to eat the fucking cuckoobird when it next poked its head out. “They fucking hated each other and, because of that, they hated us. Me and my goddamn sister. The two of us are miserable excuses for human beings, but I suppose it’s a wonder that we survived at all.”

Justin walked across the room and put his hand on Brian’s arm. “You’re not a miserable excuse for a human being and I don’t want to hear you saying things like that.”

Brian smiled slightly. “Truth hurts, huh, twat?”

“It’s not the truth,” Justin asserted. “I wouldn’t be with someone like that. Lindsay wouldn’t have had Gus with someone like that. And Michael wouldn’t be friends with a miserable excuse for a human being!”

“Mikey didn’t have much choice!” Brian laughed. “He was pretty pathetic himself. A short, goofy, faggy little nerd who walked around with a comic book in his hand. Of course, I had to rescue him. That’s the only reason he’s put up with me all these years.”

“So you are an admirable character after all,” said Justin. He began unbuttoning Brian’s shirt. The four-poster bed reminded him a little of the one they’d fucked in at the bed and breakfast they’d stayed in for Justin’s graduation from Dartmouth. “A superhero, like in Michael’s comics. Come to Earth to save poor, nerdy fags from high school hell!”

“And who saved you, Sunshine?” Brian whispered. They were moving towards the bed. It was another Victorian monstrosity, but Brian didn’t mind that much. He could fuck anywhere, any time. No problem. 

“You did,” Justin replied, stepping out of his jeans. “It just took a little longer.”

“And who is going to save me?” Brian pushed Justin backwards onto the chenille bedspread. The boy’s cock was hard and insistent. Brian licked his lips. Who could resist such a temptation?

“I am.” Justin shut his eyes as Brian went down on him. “But you already know that.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding rehearsal.

Boston, November 2005

 

The wedding rehearsal was held at the Duggans’ parish church – a ponderous stone building that was blackened on the outside by decades of exhaust fumes and seawater and blackened on the inside by as many decades of candle smoke and mildew.

“Jesus,” whispered Brian as he and Justin walked in. “I’d almost forgotten that smell.”

“What smell?” Justin frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The incense,” Brian replied. “And dampness. And desperation. Because that’s when people come to a fucking place like this – when they’re desperate.”

“That’s not why Denny and Carole are coming here,” Justin corrected him. “They’re coming to get married!”

“It’s the same thing in the long run,” said Brian. “Only they don’t know it yet.”

“Some married people are happy, Brian.” Justin put his hand on Brian’s arm. “Maybe not all of them, but a lot of them. They love each other and have families. It happens, whether you believe it or not.”

Brian looked down at Justin’s serious face. “You still have a lot of dreams, don’t you, brat?”

“More than I can manage!” Justin smiled. “But I can’t believe that you don’t have a few hidden away – even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“All of my dreams involve my dick and your ass,” Brian said, lowering his voice. “But we better shut the fuck up or we’ll get booted out of here before this shindig even begins! This is still a church, after all.”

“Maybe the priest will be a hot young stud,” Justin speculated. Brian had told him about an encounter he’d had with his own mother’s pastor a few years before in a now-closed bathhouse off Liberty Avenue. He had also hinted that ‘Father Buttfuck’ hadn’t been the only man of the cloth on Brian’s long list of conquests.

“I’m not holding my breath,” Brian sniffed.

But the priest turned out to be exactly the opposite of young, hot, and studly. Father Mike was elderly, bald, and near-sighted.

“I’m glad to meet you, my son,” said Father Mike, shaking hands with Brian after Denny introduced them. “Kinney? Are you any relation to Porky Kinney, who was the son of Butch Kinney and his wife, Martha? His brother was Stretch Kinney, who married the daughter of Spike Flynn. They belonged to St. Monica’s.”

“No,” said Brian, stifling a laugh. Denny had warned them that among the older generation of Southie Irish everyone had a ridiculous nickname. “I’m from Pittsburgh. My father was plain old Jack Kinney. And his father was Peter Kinney.”

“Ah,” the old priest nodded, as if searching his foggy memory. “Were your people from Kerry? Or maybe they were of the Monaghan Kinneys? Then they might be related to Pinky Kinney. Or the family of Old Ratty Kinney and his brother, Bugger.”

Brian raised his eyebrows. “Bugger Kinney? That might very well be my branch of the clan – whether we’re related or not!”

“Brian, behave!” Justin warned. Then he quickly changed the subject before the priest had a chance to inquire further. “This is a very nice old church, Father.”

“It’s nice, but it is an old one, surely,” Father Mike agreed. “Many weddings we’ve had here. And many baptisms, First Communions, confirmations, and funerals as well. But we don’t know how much longer we can stay open. So many of the old parishes are closing. The young people are moving to the suburbs in droves. It’s not like the old days when the families stayed in the neighborhood. I baptized both Denny and Carole, but Red tells me that they have already put a down payment on a house out in Quincy.” He said the name as if it were a foreign place, like Tahiti or Tibet.

“I hope it won’t close,” Justin replied. He liked the feel of the old church, even if it was drafty and obsolete. His artist’s eye was drawn to the high arches, the shadowy corners, and faded colors of the stone walls and stained glass windows. He knew there was no time to take out his sketchpad right then, but maybe tomorrow...

“Hey, Justin!” Denny called from in front of the altar. The rest of the wedding party was gathered there with the wedding planner, a stern woman in a prim blue suit. “We need you and Father Mike over here!”

“We had better heed the call, young man,” Father Mike remarked. “Or that planner woman will get her knickers in a gigantic twist.”

“I’ll wait here until you finish,” said Brian.

“Oh, no you won’t,” said a deep voice. 

Brian turned to see Denny’s Uncle Pat standing behind them. They had met Pat at the Duggan house earlier in the day when they all assembled for their session with the planner, who ruled the wedding with an iron fist.

This is more like it, thought Brian, looking Denny’s uncle up and down. He’s not a hot young priest, but he’s not half bad for a guy who’s got to be in his 40’s.

Pat Donaghue, the youngest brother of Denny’s mother, Marge, was a tall, muscular man with sandy hair just beginning to gray at the temples. Pat, a lawyer, and his partner, Derrick, a high school Math teacher, lived in Weymouth, but they had both been born and raised in Southie.

“Justin, all this wedding stuff is enough to give any decent fag the willies,” Pat declared. “So I’m taking your man over to get a drink.” He paused and smiled. “If that’s all right with you?”

Justin hesitated for a moment. Pat might be older, but he was still a hot guy. But what could happen? It wasn’t as if Denny’s uncle was going to spirit Brian away to a sex club. Or was he?

“I guess so...” Justin bit his lip.

“I think I’ll be okay, Sunshine,” Brian reassured him. “I’m sure Mr. Donaghue will take very good care of me.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Justin grunted.

Pat roared with laughter. “I’m flattered, kid. I didn’t realize an old man like me was still so dangerous! Wait until I tell Derrick. He’ll have to keep a closer eye on me from now on!”

“Go and do your Best Man duties, twat.” Brian gave Justin’s ample butt a push towards the altar where the others were waiting for him to begin the rehearsal. “I’ll see you afterwards, at the dinner.” 

“Be good, Brian,” said Justin. “I mean it!”

“I’m always good,” Brian replied. He gave Uncle Pat a wink. “Ask anyone.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of!” Justin sighed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Quiet Man Pub.

Boston, November 2005

 

The Quiet Man Pub was an old-fashioned working man’s tavern in the center of Southie that made no attempt to mimic the gentrification that was beginning to transform the neighborhood around it. It was dark, like the old church, but the odor was of beer, sweat, and corned beef rather than candles and incense. A mural from the film of the same name was the only hint of color inside.

“Hey, Pat,” called the bartender in a thick Boston accent. “How’s the wedding goin’?”

“They’re rehearsing with Father Mike,” said Pat, motioning Brian to sit at one of the tables under the mural.

“Where’s ya better half?” the bartender asked.

“At work. He’ll be over for the dinner after school lets out.” Pat pulled out a chair and sat down. “Can we get a couple of longnecks over here?”

“Sure thing,” the bartender nodded. “Ya know, Patrick – you’re next!”

“In your dreams!” Pat laughed.

Brian cocked his head questioningly. “You and your partner really thinking about that shit? I mean – fags getting married! What’s the point?”

Pat frowned slightly. “Maybe because we can here in Massachusetts. Maybe to show the bastards in other places where they’re stripping us of our rights that not everyone thinks we’re less than citizens – or less than humans. Maybe so Derrick can have the full benefits of being my husband. Maybe because we love each other.” He smiled crookedly at Brian. “Is that enough reasons?”

“So that fags can act like fucking straight people?” Brian snorted.

“So that fags don’t have to hide anymore,” Pat snapped back. “So that fags don’t have to believe they’ll always be second class because that’s what the law tells them they are. Not acting like straight people – but like people. Period.”

“Spoken like a true lawyer. So why haven’t you and your partner done it?” Brian questioned. “I mean, if it’s so fucking wonderful?”

“We will,” said Pat serenely. “Next summer. In Provincetown, where we first got together. But don’t tell anyone or they’ll sic that goddamn wedding planner woman on us! We want some time to do it our way.” Pat sat back and grinned. “Unless Derrick or I get knocked up – then we’ll have to hurry it up!”

Brian shook his head thinking about Denny and Carole’s impeding parenthood. “Those two poor fucking kids! They have no idea what they’re in for!”

“Sure they do,” said Pat. “They’ve gone out together since they were at St. Mary’s Middle School. They grew up together. They were going to get married next June anyway. And they both want a lot of kids. As my sister Marge says, they’re just jumping the gun a little. It happens all the time.”

“I know,” Brian brooded. “It happened to my parents. Except the result wasn’t so great.”

Pat licked his lips. “Oh, I don’t know. You look pretty good to me, Brian.”

The bartender brought over two bottles of Bud and two shots. “Thought ya guys’d need an extra little kick.”

“Thanks, Tim,” said Pat. “This is Brian. His partner is Denny’s best man.”

“Hey, Brian,” said Tim, squinting at him. “You’re not a Southie boy or I’d know ya.”

“I’m from Pittsburgh,” Brian replied. “Just here for the wedding.”

Tim nodded. “I hear they’re having the rehearsal dinner at that foreign place.” 

“It’s a sushi bar,” said Pat. “Denny and Carole picked it out.”

“Sushi, huh?” Tim made a face. “Well, after you finish up over there with the fish food, come back here and get a real meal. The beef tips are our specialty.”

“Sushi bar?” said Brian, as the bartender walked away. 

“Things are changing around here,” said Pat. “And changing fast. Condos going up all over. Trendy restaurants and bars. The old joints are shutting down, one by one. The Quiet Man will probably go one day, too. That really will be the end of the old-time Southie. Soon The Town will look just like the South End. Just like any other neighborhood in Boston.”

“Times change,” Brian shrugged. “Everything changes. Sometimes for the better.”

“Maybe,” Pat agreed. “This wasn’t always the most tolerant place in the world. You should have lived through the busing thing. That was a fucking nightmare. And the Irish mob used to rule this area with an iron fist. Those days are over, thank God. But the tightness of the families, the community – that’s going, too.”

“You said that you and your partner met in P-Town,” said Brian. “I thought Denny said you two grew up in the same neighborhood.”

“We did,” Pat smiled. “Derrick was a pal of my older brothers, Charlie and Stu. I was the little tag-a-long kid. I idolized my brothers and Derrick. They were tall and good-looking. Big athletes. I was skinny and kind of a nerd.” Pat flexed his left arm. “I filled out later.”

“So I see.” Pat was in good shape for a guy in his early 40’s, Brian thought.

“I went to college and then law school here in town,” Pat continued. “I was living at home and it was hard to go to bars. I wasn’t out to anyone in the family. You didn’t come out in those days, let me tell you. So one summer I borrowed the car and drove up to Provincetown for a couple of days. It was the first time I’d ever really been surrounded by so many out men. I walked around staring at all the guys. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven!” Pat laughed. “The first night in P-Town I went to a tea dance – and there was Derrick, dancing with his shirt off! I couldn’t believe it!”

“What did you do?” asked Brian. He loved hearing good hooking-up stories.

“I didn’t have to do a thing!” said Pat. “He saw me and walked right over. ‘Well,’ he said to me. ‘It’s about time you found your way to the Other Side, Stinky’!”

Brian almost choked on his beer. “Stinky?”

“Yeah, that was my nickname,” Pat confided. “My brothers gave it to me when I was about two. But don’t you dare use it or I’ll have to kill you!”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Brian guffawed.

“Some secret!” Pat shook his head. “Only you and a thousand of my relatives know it! But that’s okay – everyone around here has a nickname.”

“So I’ve found out,” said Brian.

“But you never had one?” asked Pat. “Even when you were a kid?”

“Me? Never!” Brian asserted. But in his head he kept hearing Jack Kinney’s voice saying, ‘Come over here, Sonny Boy.’ 

Pat drained his bottle and set it down. “We better get back to the church. They should be finished with the rehearsal by now. Derrick is meeting us later at the sushi place.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting your partner.” Brian stood up and put a ten on the table.

“Oh, no!” insisted Pat, pushing the bill away. “This is my treat. You’re in our territory now, Kinney.” Both men put on their coats and headed for the door. “And Derrick is looking forward to meeting you and Justin, too. We fags have to stick together, right?”

“Fags sticking together.” Brian smiled slowly. “That’s always been my credo.”

Pat smirked. “I bet it has! So, let’s move our asses!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rehearsal dinner at the sushi restaurant.

Boston, November 2005

 

Billy “Red” Duggan had reserved an entire room in the sushi restaurant for the Duggan-Rooney rehearsal dinner. Denny was the first of his kids to get married and, even if it was happening a little earlier than expected, he has determined to do it up right. The Sushi House wasn’t exactly his cup of tea, but the kids liked it – and what made his kids happy was what mattered to Red and his wife, Marge.

“You must be kidding with this stuff!” Red moaned as the petite Japanese waitress placed a black lacquered plate in front of him. Some small rolls wrapped in something wet and green sat in the middle of the plate like flotsam without the jetsam.

“I ordered that especially for you, Pop!” Denny cracked. “I know how much you like eel!”

“Eel?” Red choked. “Can’t I get a burger in this joint? Or a pork chop?”

“That’s not really eel, Bill,” Brian reassured him. At Justin’s suggestion, Denny had seated his former roommate’s boyfriend next to his father, hoping that Brian might guide the old man through the unfamiliar meal. And if Red ate the food, then the rest of the older, more conservative members of the party – his mother, his Aunt Helen, his Uncles Charlie and Stu and their wives, and Carole’s parents, Ed and Bernadette Rooney – would follow him into the strange world of Japanese cuisine. “Denny is pulling your leg.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Red. “Smartass little punk! Well, what is it?”

“This is a Shrimp Tempura Roll.” Brian pointed with his chopstick. “And this is a Philadelphia Roll – a little smoked salmon and cream cheese. That one is a California Roll – crabmeat and avocado. That one on the end has lobster in it and this one has teriyaki beef. It’s all cooked, Bill. I guarantee you. Marge and the others have the same thing.” Brian indicated Red’s wife and the aunts and uncles.

“Oh,” said Red, picking up his fork. There was no way he was going to eat with a couple of wooden sticks! “Maybe I’ll try that smoked salmon thing.”

Denny watched as his father put the piece in his mouth and chewed tentatively. “It’s not bad,” he pronounced, grudgingly. And, sure enough, Marge and the others followed suit.

“I told you,” Brian smirked. “Now this...” he picked up a piece of sashimi from his own plate with his chopsticks. “THIS is eel!” Brian popped it into his mouth. “Sure you don’t want a taste?”

“No goddamn way!” Red laughed. “I’m not putting something like THAT in my mouth!”

“That’s what separates the men from the boys,” Brian informed his host. He picked up another piece of sashimi and sucked it between his lips. “Among other things.”

“I don’t want to hear about your sex life, Brian!” Red guffawed. “And I need a beer over here! That saki’ll murder me! It goes down like a nun’s knickers!”

“Billy! Please keep your voice down,” murmured his wife, Marge, glancing at her two brothers and their wives and the Rooneys.

“Sorry, honey,” he said, chastened. Marge was one of the few people who could actually rein in the boisterous Red Duggan.

“Pop’s having a pretty good time,” Denny’s younger sister, Kathleen, a junior at Boston College, told Justin. They were sitting at the other end of the long table. “I think he gets a kick out of Brian.”

“A lot of guys get a kick out of Brian,” Justin laughed. “So why not your dad?”

“Brian told me that Red reminds him of the men his father used to hang out with when he was a kid,” said Denny’s Uncle Pat. “On some bowling team his old man belonged to.”

“From what I hear,” Justin replied. “Brian and his dad didn’t get along too well. But it might have been different when he was younger.”

“Sounds like me and my father,” said Pat’s partner, Derrick. He speared a piece of shrimp tempura off his plate and dipped it into some sauce. “After I came out to him and started living with Pat, he didn’t speak to me for six years.”

“That’s a long time,” said Justin, thinking about his own father. “What made him change his mind?”

“He had a heart attack,” said Derrick. “Ma brought in the priest to give him the Sacraments in the Intensive Care Unit. He really thought he was going to die right then. So he asked to see me one last time. Then he got better, but he was too stubborn to take it all back! Typical, huh?”

“Your father always was a hard-headed bastard – just like you!” said Pat, gazing at his partner fondly.

Justin noted the loving looks that passed between the two men. They’d been together for twenty years and yet they joked and laughed like a couple of teenagers. That’s the way it should be, Justin thought. Not like my parents, who act like their marriage is a business arrangement rather than a love affair.

Then Justin looked at Denny and Carole. Tomorrow they were getting married. And soon they’d have a baby. Goofy, carefree Denny would be someone’s father. It didn’t seem possible. Justin looked around the table at the sea of redheaded Duggans. Then he looked at Carole, sitting shyly next to her future husband. Her hair was as black as Denny’s was red, her skin pale white, and her eyes dark blue and trusting. She didn’t look like anyone’s mother, either, but soon she’d have a tiny baby in her arms.

That’s the way life happened, thought Justin. It sneaks up on you. You’re a kid, standing there, wondering what the fuck it’s all about, and then – wham! – you’ve got eight kids, like the Duggans. And you’re watching your oldest walk down the aisle.

But what if you’re a queer?

Justin knew that Lindsay and Mel were married, even if their wedding wasn’t recognized by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. And they had a family – Gus and J. R. – with a little help from Brian and Michael. And Michael and Ben had been married up in Toronto and had adopted Hunter. Denny’s Uncle Pat and Derrick weren’t married and didn’t have kids, but they were still a real couple. A real family, surrounded by friends and relatives who loved and accepted them.

Justin gazed down the long table at Brian, laughing with Mr. Duggan. He was beautiful, his perfect profile like something out of a Renaissance painting. 

His lover. His partner. It gave him a thrill to think about it. 

Maybe they weren’t married. They probably never would be, especially given Brian’s intense aversion to the very thought of such a breeder ritual. But they were together. Fuck what Craig Taylor felt about it! And fuck what the powers-that-be in Pittsburgh might feel about it! Or all of the right-wing wackos and haters who would tell them they were going to hell!

“I want to propose a toast!” Justin found himself on his feet, holding his cup of saki in his hand.

All eyes turned to stare at Justin. Then they lifted up their glasses of beer or cups of saki. 

“To Denny and Carole!” said Justin, well aware of his role as Best Man. “May everyone at this table be as happy as they are tonight!”

“Here, here,” said Uncle Pat, bolting down his saki. “Sláinte!”

“Sláinte!” they all replied. And then they drank.

Carole blushed as Denny leaned over and kissed her.

Justin glanced at Brian, sitting pensively at the end of the table. 

His face was solemn, but when he saw Justin’s blue eyes, he smiled and lifted his glass a second time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedding blues.

Boston, November 2005

 

At the last minute, Brian decided not to wear his midnight blue Armani tux to the wedding.

“But I thought that’s the only reason you agreed to come!” said Justin as Brian made the final adjustments on Justin’s black bowtie. They were standing in their room in the Wellington-Bradford Guesthouse in front of a full-length mirror placed there for their convenience by Nathaniel Wellington-Bradford. Or was it Preston? Brian couldn’t tell the two guys apart. That’s what happened to couples who lived together too fucking long – they began to look alike! And Nathaniel and Preston looked enough alike to be brothers.

“Everyone else, except the wedding party, will be wearing suits,” Brian replied. “The only thing worse than being under-dressed, is being over-dressed. I don’t want to look like an arrogant dick by sashaying into the church and upstaging the bride and groom.” Brian smoothed Justin’s tie and tweaked it into place. “Even though it would be quite easy.”

“It’s a curse to be so beautiful and stylish, isn’t it?” Justin smirked.

“It is. But I’ve survived somehow.” Brian slipped on the jacket of the dark gray Perry Ellis suit he’d brought as an alternative and scrutinized himself in the mirror. “Perfect. As usual.”

“As usual!” Justin grinned. “I’d fuck you.”

“You better.” Brian looked up at the cuckoo clock on the mantelpiece. It was almost 1:30 and wedding was scheduled for to begin at 2:00. “We better get cracking. You have a job to do, Best Man!”

“I know!” said Justin. “Can you believe it?”

“Do you have the rings?” Brian asked before they went out the door.

“Right here.” Justin opened his tux jacket and touched the inner pocket.

“I think we’re all set.” 

The two men walked down to the lot behind the house where Justin’s Jeep was parked. The November sky had been threatening rain all day, but had so far held off.

“I’m starting to get nervous,” said Justin as he climbed into the driver’s seat and turned over the engine.

“You’ll do fine,” said Brian, getting in the other side and slamming the door. “After all, it isn’t you getting married!”

“I know,” said Justin, trying to keep any regret out of his voice.

But Brian didn’t reply. He only looked out the window as they drove to the church in Southie.

 

***

 

Because it was somewhat of a hurry-up affair, Denny and Carole’s wedding was held on a Wednesday afternoon instead of the more-desired Saturday. And rather than the hoard of attendants that had been originally planned, there were only Carole’s sister, Meg, as Matron of Honor, her little niece, Melissa, as Flower Girl, Justin as the Best Man, and two of Denny’s brothers, the 16 year old twins, Benjie and Mickey, as Ushers. But the altar was still decorated with baskets of fresh flowers, the church was full of relatives, and Carole looked beautiful and glowing, if just a little bit pinched, in her trailing white lace dress.

Out of habit, Brian sat near the back. That’s where Jack, his Old Man, had always sat on the rare occasions that he came to Mass. He always said that it was so he could make a quick getaway if the need arose. That was in sharp contrast with Joanie, who sat as close to the front as she could get and who was always the first to jump up and bolt for the rail when the time came for Communion.

Brian was always surprised at how easily all the gestures and responses came back to him when he was in church. He’d taken Joan to Mass a few times after Jack died, but then begged off when he saw who his mother’s new pastor was – an old trick from the Apollo Baths. That had been a fucking nightmare! It was bad enough to run into a former fuck at the diner or on the street, but to see one in church – shit!

The last wedding he’d been to had been Michael and Ben’s up in Toronto. At that one he’d actually played the role Justin was now playing for Denny – Best Man. Brian never thought he’d stoop to gracing another wedding with his presence – he’d been forced to attend his sister Claire’s disastrous nuptials and managed to avoid Lindsay and Mel’s by winning tickets to the White Party in South Beach – but he’d made the exception for Mikey and the Professor. But what the hell? If a couple of dickless fags wanted to act like breeders that was their own business. And if it made Mikey happy...

And Michael did seem happy. That was the peculiar thing. Happy with his house on Stepford Terrace. Happy with his partner and his adopted son and his boring, bourgeois, faux-straight lifestyle. That, after all Brian had tried to teach him about being a good, strong, independent queer! What a fucking disappointment!

And then there was Justin.

It was difficult to miss Justin’s growing excitement as all the wedding hype reached a fever pitch. The meeting with the insane woman who was the wedding planner. The rehearsal with the old priest. The rehearsal dinner. The surprise bachelor party that Pat and his partner Derrick threw for Denny at the Quiet Man Pub afterwards. And now the main event. The fucking wedding.

Everything. The whole fucking catastrophe!

And yesterday morning Justin had been looking at all the photos of the Wellington-Bradfords at their own wedding – pictures which were prominently placed all over the fucking guesthouse. Justin asking one of them (Nathaniel? Preston? Who the fuck could tell them apart?) about the details – which the guy was only too happy to provide. Drinking it all in.

It had been hard to avoid the look on Justin’s face while they were getting dressed. Justin’s smiling at his reflection in the mirror. Perhaps picturing himself in Denny’s place.

And Brian...

But Brian wasn’t Carole. He’d look ridiculous in white lace. And he wasn’t a fucking straight person. He wasn’t dickless – at least not yet.

And he wasn’t planning to be dickless any time in the future.

Which meant that one day he and Justin might go head-to-head over this stupid issue.

Marriage. A fucking wedding.

Christ!

He’d already lost one ball, he wasn’t about to sacrifice the other.

Not even for Justin.

No matter how much he loved...

No. 

Stop!

That was the first fucking step. That was how you got yourself roped in.

Because you loved someone.

No.

Yes.

But he did love Justin. He couldn’t deny it. Maybe he didn’t even want to deny it.

But marriage... that was where he drew the line. That was something he couldn’t do. Wouldn’t do!

Fuck.

And if that’s what Justin wanted. If that’s what Justin had to have in order to be happy...

Well, they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. And if Justin walked over it, he’d have to leave Brian behind.

Because Brian couldn’t cross that fucking river.

Brian’s favorite part of any wedding ceremony was “If anyone knows a reason why these two people should not be joined together, let him speak now or forever hold his peace.” Instinctively, Brian would look around, hoping that someone would barrel down the aisle and disrupt the proceedings. But, of course, no one ever did. No one ever stopped the wedding. And Catholics didn’t do that, anyway. Maybe they were afraid there’d be a stampede to get the words out. Brian almost laughed out loud at that, but he caught himself before he caused a scandal.

Of course, Justin played his part perfectly, producing the two rings from his pocket at the right moment and placing them in Denny’s palm. Then he stepped back and watched as Denny and Carole exchanged them. His face was radiant, that fucking ‘Sunshine’ smile lighting up the dark and stuffy old church.

Brian could hear a woman weeping up front. Probably one of the mothers. Or both of the mothers. Fucking women. Fucking crying. Fucking tears of happiness. They must have cried like that at Jack and Joanie’s wedding. If only they had known how apt their tears would be.

Then it was all over. The couple kissed and everyone stood and applauded. They walked back up the aisle, smiling, their entire lives ahead of them, as someone up in the choir loft played the recessional. As Justin followed, his arm looped through that of Carole’s sister, the Matron of Honor, he looked over at Brian and winked.

Brian shook his head. He felt a chill go through him. The old church was too damp, too full of the memories of weddings past. He could hardly wait to get out and breathe some fresh air.

But outside it had just begun to rain.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reception.

Boston, November 2005

 

“More bubbly, Sunshine?”

Brian tipped the bottle over the glass, sloshing champagne all over the tablecloth.

“I think you’ve had enough, Brian,” said Justin, gently taking the bottle out of Brian’s hands and setting it on the table. The wedding reception had been going strong for more than two hours and in that time Brian had taken full advantage of the open bar. He’d started with a couple of glasses of Samuel Adams beer, then moved on to shots of Jameson’s, then Irish Car Bombs, and, finally – Justin hoped – champagne.

“There’s no such thing as enough!” Brian declared loudly. “Haven’t I taught you at least THAT much?”

“Brian,” said Justin, leaning close to him. “There IS such thing as a enough – at least here. All of Denny’s relatives are watching.”

“This is an Irish wedding, for fuck’s sake!” Brian reasoned foggily. “If a man can’t get drunk here, then where can he get drunk? I’m upholding a fine old family tradition! My old man was an alcoholic. And his old man was an alcoholic. And I’m sure that HIS old man was one, too! See what I mean?”

“I know about alcoholics, Brian,” said Justin. “My grandmother is one. But she does her drinking quietly, sitting in the living room of her house in the suburbs.”

“I see,” Brian snorted. “You don’t mind that I misbehave, just as long as I do it behind closed doors. Well, that’s the way WASPs get drunk. But Micks... they like to do their misbehaving in public, where the whole world can see them! And speaking of the whole world watching – let’s dance!” Brian stood up and grabbed Justin’s arm, hauling him to his feet. “Shake your ass, Sunshine! Show all the breeders how a couple of fags can use their bodies!”

“Brian!” said Justin, pulling back. “Stop it!”

“Come on, Sunshine!” Brian insisted. He frowned at the dance floor, where Denny and Carole were smiling at each other as they danced, and a number of their relatives, mostly older women and children, swayed awkwardly. “If a bunch of rhythmless straight people can dance to this horrible music, then so can we! Equal rights in Massachusetts! ‘I’m once, twice, three times a lady’!”

“Is everything okay here?” asked Pat. He and his partner, Derrick, walked over from where they had been sitting on the other side of the room when they saw Justin’s dilemma.

“Uncle Pat!” Brian exclaimed, turning and grabbing Denny’s uncle by the shoulders. “You’ll dance with me, won’t you? Us Irish queers have to stick together, right?”

“Sure, Brian,” Pat said calmly. “I’ll dance with you. And Derrick can dance with Justin.”

“That’s hot!” Brian guffawed, lurching towards Pat. “I’ve been trying to get the boy interested in a foursome, but he’s just not into it. He believes in all that breeder shit – true love and monogamy and happily ever after! In other words, fairy tales – with an accent on the FAIRY’S TAIL! Get it?” 

“I get it.” Pat moved Brian onto the dance floor, while Derrick partnered an unsmiling Justin. The band began playing ‘We’ve Only Just Begun’ and the floor filled with more couples.

“You’re hot, Pat,” Brian slurred. “You ever fuck around? Or are you and your partner a couple of those disgustingly perfect faggot role models?”

Pat shook his head. “That’s between me and my partner. And, no – we don’t think of ourselves as role models, Brian. We’re only trying to live our lives.”

Brian grimaced. “When fags try to live their lives, that’s when so-called normal people start passing laws to stop them!”

“That’s a very cynical outlook,” Pat replied. “I haven’t found that to be the case.”

“You think so?” said Brian, biting his lip. “You should live in Fabulous Pittsburgh, where being a queer is like being a deer during hunting season – anyone can take a shot at you! Wait until the backlash starts here. When all the right wing hatemongers and your loving and forgiving Catholic Church join forces against the Godless Sodomites! Then you’ll see. You’ll find out what it’s like.”

“You forget that I lived through the Eighties, Brian,” Pat reminded him. “I know what it’s like to have people hate and fear you – some of them your relatives and friends. I know what it’s like to lose friends to AIDS and realize that most straight people don’t give a fuck. And that some of them even think it’s God’s will – or even hope that all of us die. But things change. People change. Time is in our favor. It IS getting better, whether you believe it or not.”

“It’s great to live in a Faggots’ Paradise, Pat!” Brian sniffed. “So, enjoy your fluffy little dream world. But Justin and I have to live in the Real World. In the Pitts and other places where someone would bash us in the head for daring to dance like this in public!”

“I don’t see anyone complaining.” Pat looked around. They were surrounded by dancers, including Denny and Carole and both sets of parents. And aunts and uncles. Friends and cousins, including Denny’s cousin Jeanette, an ex-nun, and her girlfriend, Marlene. And Derrick and Justin. Justin was now smiling at something that Derrick had told him. Even Father Mike was twirling an elderly woman with surprising grace. “And I’m not afraid, Brian. But what is it that you’re afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of shit!” Brian asserted. “So – you want to go to the men’s room?”

“No! I don’t want to go into the men’s room!” Pat didn’t want to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. “Poor Justin! I bet he has his hands full keeping you in line.”

“No one ‘keeps me in line’!” Brian stopped dancing and glared at Pat. “I do whatever the fuck I want. And so does Justin. We’re NOT married and we’re not like fucking straight people! Or a pair of dickless fags!”

“I assure you,” said Pat. “Derrick and I are far from dickless.”

“Says YOU!” Brian turned away and marched unsteadily across the floor to where Justin and Derrick were dancing. The music had changed to some Phil Collins number from the mid-Eighties. Didn’t this band know anything except Top 40 shit circa 1984? “Hey!” Brian tapped Derrick on the shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”

Derrick looked at Brian quizzically. “I think you need to sit out the next few songs, Brian. You look a little shaky on your feet.”

“Fuck you!” Brian huffed. “Give me back my partner! Right now!”

“Be my guest.” Derrick stepped aside. “Thanks for the dance, Justin.”

“My pleasure,” Justin replied. “You’re a good dancer.”

“Yeah, for such an old man!” Brian pulled Justin away. “You’re lucky the guy didn’t break a fucking hip!”

“Don’t tell me? Are you jealous?” Justin raised his eyebrows. “I thought Brian Kinney didn’t do jealous?”

They moved into the middle of the dance floor. Brian put his arms around the kid and leaned his forehead against Justin’s. “I don’t do jealous! That’s bullshit. But never forget that your ass is MINE! I OWN it – lock, stock, and smoking bubble butt!”

“You’re so funny, Brian,” Justin whispered. “That’s why I love you.”

“And I...” Brian paused. He clutched at Justin desperately. “I... Fuck! I think I don’t feel too well.”

Something was definitely wrong. “Brian! Are you okay?”

Brian blinked. The room was spinning. “I... think so.”

And Justin watched as his lover slowly slid to the floor.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man down!

Boston, November 2005

 

“Oh my God! Brian!” Justin cried. 

He grabbed at his lover, trying to hold him up, but Brian’s dead weight was too much and he sprawled on the dance floor like a broken doll.

“Man down!” yelled Billy Duggan. And then he threw his head back and laughed. Guys too smashed to keep their feet were par for the course at a Duggan party. But his wife, Marge, frowned and jabbed him in the belly.

Suddenly Justin and Brian were surrounded by a mob of men, all trying to drag Brian to his feet.

“Stand back!” ordered Pat, pushing through the crowd. “Give the man some air!”

Pat and Derrick gently helped Brian into a sitting position.

“Fuck,” Brian groaned, his eyes flickering open. “Fuckity fuck fuck.”

“You said it,” Pat commented.

“Did he take anything besides the booze?” Derrick asked Justin as Pat looked closely into Brian’s eyes. “Any E or other shit?”

Justin shook his head. “I... I don’t think so. He would have mentioned it – or offered me some, too. I don’t think he brought anything like that with him.”

“Good,” Pat nodded. He and Derrick each took an arm. “Ups-a-daisy, Beautiful. Let’s get you into the men’s room.” They hoisted Brian up and guided him off the dance floor.

“It’ll be okay,” Denny said, putting his arm around Justin’s shoulders as they followed the parade to the bathroom. “This is Southie. Stuff like this always happens. People have a little too much to drink and – pow! It hits them all of a sudden. You should come to an Irish wake some time. Even the old ladies get drunk at those!”

“But Brian can usually hold his liquor,” Justin insisted. “It’s not like him to be so drunk that he actually falls down!”

“It happens,” Denny shrugged. “I’ve seen you passed out more than once. Remember that mixer sophomore year? I found you asleep in the men’s john with your head on the toilet seat!”

“I remember,” Justin winced. “But this is Brian!”

“Don’t worry. Uncle Pat and Derrick will take good care of him,” Denny said as they paused in front of door of the men’s room. Inside Justin could hear Pat and Derrick talking. But he didn’t hear Brian’s voice. And that scared the shit out of him. 

“I have to be in there with Brian!” Justin asserted.

But Denny held him back. “Give the guys a few minutes. Then if Brian is still feeling bad, we can take him over to the house and let him lie down. He’ll have a bitch of a hangover in the morning, but he’ll be okay,” Denny reassured him.

“Shit,” Justin muttered. He knew Denny was right – Uncle Pat and his partner had a lot more experience dealing with guys under the influence, but that didn’t make it any easier. Justin had seen Brian drunk and stoned before, but rarely so out of it that he couldn’t stand up.

“Is Brian all right?” Carole came up to them, her face full of concern. She looked other-worldly in her white, lacy gown, her black hair caught back in a circlet of white rosebuds, her dark blue eyes wide.

“He’ll be fine,” Denny pronounced. Then his voice softened. “How are you feeling?” He reached out and lightly touched her shoulder.

“I was a little queasy before, but I’m feeling better now,” Carole replied.

Justin’s eyes shifted to Carole’s waistline. She looked the same to him. He didn’t pay too much attention to women in general, but her stomach didn’t look any bigger than it had last June. There was nothing about her that screamed out that she was pregnant. Maybe her face was a little flushed, but it was hot in the party center. And maybe there were dark smudges under her eyes, but it had been a long, tiring day.

Justin watched as Denny leaned against Carole and kissed her tenderly, his hand resting against her belly.

Something deep inside Justin reeled as he watched his friend and his new bride.

This is what it means to be married. This is what it means to have someone who will love you forever, no matter what. Someone who you’ll always love. For better or worse. For richer or poorer. In sickness and health. Until death – and maybe even beyond that.

That’s what I feel for Brian, Justin thought. 

He’d felt that for a long time, maybe even since the first moment he saw Brian on Christmas Eve almost a year ago, but it had never been so clear in his mind before. He’d never really thought about the vows people said when they got married. Before they had been simply words. An empty ritual. But now they seemed concrete. A real promise that you made. With real consequences in your life.

“I think you should sit down,” said Denny, taking Carole by the hand. “It’s been a long day.” And he led Carole back into the main room, leaving Justin leaning against the wall next to the men’s room door.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian in the men's room – but not like that!

Boston, November 2005

 

“Fuck!”

The voice was unmistakable to Justin. Brian. Slightly slurred and obviously in distress.

“I’m coming in there!” Justin declared – and pushed open the men’s room door.

The stall door was ajar and Brian was leaning over the toilet, upheld by Pat and Derrick, who were wedged into the small space on either side of him.

“Oh, God!” Brian moaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that fucking piece of wedding cake!”

“Here’s a clue – it wasn’t the cake that did this,” Pat offered.

“Justin, could you hand me some wet paper towels?” asked Derrick.

“Sure.” Justin pulled a large handful from the dispenser and ran them under the cold water faucet. Then he stood just outside the stall, listening to Brian heave up his guts into the commode.

“Justin, can I have those towels?” said Derrick, irritation creeping into his voice.

“Let me do it,” Justin returned sharply. “Brian’s my partner. I should be doing that, not you guys.”

“Let us handle it, kid,” said Pat, dismissively. “We have more experience with drunks than you do.” Then he turned his attention back to Brian. “Do you think you’re going to puke again? Or are you done?” But Brian only muttered another curse under his breath.

“Excuse me, but Brian is NOT a drunk!” Justin flared. “Maybe he had a little too much tonight, but he’s not a fucking alcoholic! So don’t suggest he is!” Justin pushed his way into the stall, elbowing Derrick aside. “Brian? Are you okay?”

“Sorry about this, Sunshine,” Brian whispered. “Thank God I didn’t wear my new Armani tux!”

“Jesus H. Christ on a fucking raft!” Pat laughed. “What a label queen!”

Justin shot him a dirty look. “Do you still feel sick?” Justin asked Brian, blotting his face with the cool, damp paper towels.

Brian shook his head. “I think I’m done.”

“Okay then. Let’s get you on your feet,” said Justin, gripping Brian’s right arm. 

Pat and Justin helped Brian up slowly while Derrick brought in a folding chair from the main room. 

“There you go, Beautiful,” said Pat. “Sit your fine ass down on that.”

Brian eased onto the chair and held his throbbing head. His beautiful dark gray suit was streaked with wet spots down the front and his silk tie was twisted and ruined. Derrick handed him a bottle of water and he sipped it slowly.

“Thanks, guys,” Brian said. “You, too, brat. I’ll have to apologize to Denny and his family. I must look like a complete fucking idiot.”

“Don’t worry about it, Brian,” said Justin, kneeling next to the folding chair. “They’re just concerned that you’re all right.”

“Yeah,” Derrick smirked. “This is nothing. When I went out to get the chair they were carrying out Uncle Will. And Denny told me that cousin Ed and that crazy husband of Maggie’s were duking it out in the parking lot! Just another typical Southie wedding reception!” He handed Brian a bottle of water. “Drink some of this. You don’t want to get dehydrated.”

“Thanks.” Brian tipped the bottle against his lips, sucking down the tepid water. He sat with his eyes closed, but the room was still spinning. “I feel so fucking dizzy.”

“What else did you take?” Pat asked pointedly.

“Nothing!” Brian insisted. “I live in Family Friendly Pittsburgh, remember? I’m out of the habit of carrying a pocketful of E everywhere I go.”

“It was those goddamn Irish Car Bombs,” Derrick asserted. “Guinness, Jameson’s, and Bailey’s Irish Cream – that’s a deadly combination!”

“I’m not that drunk!” Brian shot back. “It was that lousy cake!”

“Honey, everyone else ate the cake, including every kid and little old lady in the place, and they’re all fine,” Derrick retorted. “Just admit you can’t hold your booze and have done with it!”

“Fuck you!” Brian hissed.

“That’s enough!” Pat interrupted. He recognized that Derrick and Brian were two of a kind – both highly sexed, highly competitive, and hard-headed Micks. Derrick had sniffed out Pat’s attraction to Brian the minute he saw the two of them in the same room. And Derrick didn’t like any other man, even one who was in a relationship and lived hundreds of miles away, encroaching on his territory.

“I want to take Brian back to the guesthouse,” said Justin. “I think we’ve had enough partying for tonight.”

Pat nodded. “We’ll follow you guys back there. Where are you parked?”

“That’s not necessary,” said Justin. “I can handle things from here.” He tugged at Brian’s arm, prodding him to his feet.

“Look, kid,” said Pat. “We’ll tag along behind you. You might need some help getting your partner up to bed.”

“I can walk,” Brian announced. He stood as upright as he was able, but he was shaky and still looked more than slightly green. “All I need is Justin.”

“Sure, Beautiful,” Pat smiled. “Justin is great. But it never hurts to have someone to watch your back.” He glanced at Justin, who looked unsure. “Denny would want you two to get home in one piece. And he can’t leave his own reception, can he?”

“No,” Justin admitted. “He can’t.”

“Then you lead the way, kid,” said Pat, opening the men’s room door. The sound of the band playing ‘My Love’ drifted from the main room, where the wedding reception was beginning to wind down.

“Okay,” said Justin, holding tightly onto Brian’s arm. “Come on, Brian. Just lean on me until we get to the Jeep. I won’t let you fall.”

Brian took a deep breath. He was afraid that when the chilly night air hit him he’d lose it again. But Justin’s grasp was firm. And he was right – he wouldn’t let Brian fall. And Brian knew that.

“Thanks,” he whispered. His stomach rumbled dangerously, but then settled. “I’m an asshole.”

“Shut up,” Justin ordered. “I already know what you are. And I love you anyway.”

Brian blinked. “I know that, too. But I don’t know why.”

“Yes you do,” Justin replied.

“Justin... I...” But he paused, unable to form the words. 

“I know, Brian,” said Justin. “We’ll talk about it later.”

They walked outside and stood for a moment in the cold. It had stopped raining and the wind from off Boston Harbor felt like it had snow in it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the B&B.

Boston, November 2005

 

The road was slushy and slick as Justin drove cautiously through the dark, unfamiliar streets on the way back to the guesthouse.

“For fucksake – pull over!” Brian shouted suddenly.

A startled Justin swerved the Jeep to the side of the road and slammed it to a stop, praying that Pat and Derrick’s Lexus, trailing close behind, wouldn’t rear-end them.

Brian bolted from the Jeep and puked noisily onto the freshly-fallen snow.

“Brian? Do you need any help?” Justin reached under the front seat for the towel that Brian always kept there.

Brian shook his head as he slowly climbed back into the passenger’s seat, wiping his mouth with the white linen handkerchief that had once adorned the breast pocket of his dark gray suit. “Jesus,” he breathed. “This is fucking ridiculous.”

Pat pulled his Lexus up next to the Jeep and rolled down the window. “Everything okay?”

“I think so,” said Justin, his hands clenched around the steering wheel. “Let’s get going. We’re almost there.”

Justin drove the next five blocks praying that Brian wouldn’t be sick again, while Brian prayed that he wouldn’t be sick inside the Jeep and ruin the crimson leather upholstery he had special- ordered to contrast with the black mirror-finish exterior. Christ, Kinney, he thought – get a fucking grip! You didn’t have THAT much to drink!

Brian and Justin, followed closely by Pat and Derrick, stumbled though the front door of the guesthouse in a blast of briskly falling snow. One of the owners, Preston Wellington-Bradford, was sitting in the parlor, reading a P. D. James mystery. His partner, Nathaniel, had gone to bed ages ago, and the guesthouse was quiet. Or it had been until that moment.

“Oh my!” Preston exclaimed as he took in the dishevelled group. “What happened to you?”

“A wedding happened,” Brian coughed. Justin held his breath, waiting for Brian to puke all over their host and his antique oriental carpet. “Cool your jets, Sunshine. I’m all emptied out.” Then Brian coughed again. “I think.”

“I want to get Brian into bed as soon as possible,” said Justin. Derrick barked out a snarky laugh and Justin glared at him. “I mean, because he’s not feeling well!”

“Go on up to your room. I’ll make you boys some tea and bring it up,” said Preston. He gazed at Justin’s worried face and added, “Don’t you worry, honey. Your boyfriend will be fine once his tummy settles down.”

Pat reached out to take Brian’s arm, but Justin shook his head. “I can take it from here.” 

“Justin, we only want to make certain everything is all right,” said Pat as he and Derrick followed the pair up the stairs.

Justin opened the door of their room. One of their hosts – probably Preston – had already laid a fire.

“Hey, this is a pretty nice place,” said Derrick, walking over to the hearth. “Great cuckoo clock.”

“You can have the goddamn thing,” Brian mumbled. He was trying to strip off his shirt and the buttons were popping. “That fucking bird sticks its head out every hour on the fucking hour! ‘Cuckoo’ my ass!”

“Brian, let me do that.” Justin gently pushed Brian’s hands away and helped him off with his shirt.

Pat watched quietly as Justin undressed his lover. Even though Pat knew that Justin was 22, the same age as his nephew, Denny, he looked much younger. Frankly, Justin looked like a boy. But he was acting like a man. Was taking on the responsibilities of a man. Pat imagined that Brian Kinney was not an easy person for any guy to deal with, let alone a kid who hadn’t even been out a year and was having his first relationship. But Pat could see that Justin was in love – and that love made him strong and determined.

But Brian – he was a real question mark. Pat knew from their conversation in the Quiet Man Pub that Brian was a troubled person. That he came from a family of hard-drinkers who hadn’t exactly treated him well when he was growing up. And Brian had hinted at other things in his past – dark things that were buried deeply inside. Things that Justin probably couldn’t even guess at.

Poor kid, Pat thought. He’s got a long, hard road ahead with this man. He watched as Justin pulled back the covers and Brian slipped underneath. Pat caught a brief glimpse of Brian’s slender, but muscular body. Watched him stretch his long neck against the pillow and sigh, his beautiful eyes closed. But maybe he’s worth it, Pat considered. Maybe. I hope so, for the kid’s sake.

“Come on, Derrick. Justin doesn’t really need us here.” Pat touched his partner’s arm. Staying longer might prove interesting, but he already felt like a voyeur. “Let’s get back to the reception before they run out of booze.”

 

***

Justin woke up in the dark. He felt the bed move. Then the lights went on in the bathroom.

Brian was throwing up again.

“Sorry,” Brian said, his voice weak. He was bending over the toilet, sweat pouring down his neck. “This is going to go down in history as the worst fucking hangover on record. I’m glad we sprang for the private bathroom. I’d hate to barf in the hallway of this fine establishment making a run for the john. The Wellington-Bradfords would never get over such a faux pas.”

Brian stood up and leaned against the sink. He reached out to turn on the faucet, but his hands were shaking.

“Here. Let me.” Justin took a washcloth and ran in under the cold water, then blotted Brian’s flushed face. He stroked his neck gently, but then started. “Jesus, Brian! You’re burning up!”

“Huh?” Brian looked dazed. 

“Don’t you feel hot?” Justin asked.

“I thought it was this room,” Brian murmured. “That fucking fireplace is like a furnace in here!”

“The fire is almost out,” said Justin. “It’s not the room. It’s you. You’ve got a fever.”

“Thank God!” Brian replied in relief. “I was beginning to think I was losing the Kinney ability to hold my liquor.”

“I don’t have any aspirin,” said Justin. “Should I see if the owners can give us some?”

“I’d probably just throw them back up,” said Brian. He filled a cup of water from the tap and took a sip. “That feels like ice water going down.”

“No wonder,” said Justin. “I wish I had a thermometer. Let’s get you back into bed.” 

“Yeah,” Brian breathed. “Back into bed.”

Brian’s body temperature was naturally warm, but now his skin felt like it was on fire. Justin wrapped his arms around Brian and pressed his cool body against him, as if he could draw the fever out by sheer willpower.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” Brian muttered. But he didn’t move away.

“No I won’t,” Justin insisted. “I never get sick.”

Brian murmured something under his breath.

“What?” Justin whispered. “What did you say?”

“Don’t leave me,” Brian repeated.

“I won’t,” Justin replied, holding Brian’s burning head against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.”

“No,” Brian sighed. “Don’t. LEAVE. Me. Just don’t.”

“Oh.” Justin swallowed, wondering if Brian would even remember saying it in the morning. “I already said that I won’t. And I mean it. Maybe one day you’ll truly believe it.”

But Brian was already asleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin is worried about Brian.

Boston, November 2005

 

Justin was late, but that couldn’t be helped.

He had decided that he wasn’t going to go to the brunch the Duggans were having at their house the morning after the wedding, but Brian finally convinced him otherwise.

“This will be your last chance to see Denny and Carole before they leave on their honeymoon.” Brian was sitting up in bed, sipping the herbal tea that Preston Wellington-Bradford had brought up to the room. Brian didn’t want to admit it, but the tea wasn’t half bad – and it did help settle his churning stomach. “So you might as well go.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” Justin insisted. He couldn’t stop thinking of what Brian had said the night before when his fever was at its peak – Don’t leave me. “What if you need me?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “If I take a turn for the worse, I’ll call you on my cell one final time to say farewell before I breathe my last!”

But Justin didn’t laugh. “I don’t think that’s the least bit funny.”

Brian tried to smirk, but his face hurt too much. In fact, everything hurt, but there was no way in hell he was going to admit that to the brat. “If I’m ever just about to croak, Sunshine, you’ll be the one I’ll call to give me one last blowjob for the road.” 

“Hardy har har,” Justin sniffed.

“If you can’t laugh, then all you can do is fucking cry. And I’m not about to cry!” Brian winced as he tried to make himself comfortable on the too-soft mattress the Wellington-Bradfords had provided for their guests. “Now go to that fucking brunch! I have my mug of lesbionic herbal tea and a copy of ‘Martha Stewart Living,’ both courtesy of Mr. and Mr. Wellington-Bradford, and an entire day to do nothing but watch ‘Ellen,’ ‘Oprah,’ ‘All My Children,’ and the Lifetime Network. What more could a sick fag want?”

“Someone to take care of him,” Justin stated bluntly.

“I already have that,” Brian said seriously. “But two hours isn’t going to make any difference. There’s nothing either of us can do but let this fucking thing run its course. So there’s no reason you have to sit here watching like you’re waiting for me to come to a boil. Again.” Brian rubbed his hot, aching head.

“Your fever this morning was 101.6 degrees,” Justin reminded him. The first thing Justin had done when he got up that morning was to knock on the Wellington-Bradfords’ door and borrow a thermometer and a bottle of aspirin. “And you felt a lot cooler, too. That means it must have been much higher last night. A high fever like that can be dangerous.”

“You don’t know the kind of super-powers I have,” Brian informed him. “I’m fucking invincible! It’ll take more than a bug in my stomach to bring down Brian Kinney!”

Justin wasn’t completely convinced, but in the end he left Brian under the watchful eye of Preston Wellington-Bradford. “I’m only going over there for about an hour. Then I’ll come right back here to take care of you!”

“Just shoot me now,” Brian groaned. The only thing worse than being sick, was being nursed to death. “Shoot me and get it over with!”

“Be good, Brian, and I’ll bring you back another piece of wedding cake,” said Justin as he went out the door.

“Wedding cake? Now I KNOW that twat wants to fucking kill me!” Brian muttered. Then he clicked on the television and dozed off watching ‘The View.’

 

***

“I was wondering when you’d show up!” said Denny, greeting Justin at the door of the headquarters of the Duggan Clan. “Where’s Brian?”

“Back at the guesthouse,” Justin replied. “He’s really sick, not hungover. Looks like the flu.”

“No shit?” Denny shook his head. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” He sniffed the air and grinned. “And starving! The guys at the guesthouse only give you tea and a croissant for breakfast. Do I smell sausages?”

Denny laughed. “Ma and the girls made sausages, bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, waffles – you name it! Come on! There’s still plenty of food.”

The Duggan house was overflowing with friends and relatives, most packed into the kitchen and dining room, where the food was heaped on two large tables. Marge Duggan and Carole saw Justin and immediately began preparing a dish for him.

“Here ya go, hon!” said Marge, handing over the piled plate. “You look a little peaked this morning. This oughta fix you up right!”

“What does Brian want?” asked Carole.

“He didn’t come,” said Justin, popping a strip of bacon into his mouth. “He’s got the flu. He was throwing up all night.”

“Poor guy!” said Carole, cradling her stomach. “I know what that feels like.”

“Hey, Justin!” Pat called to him across the dining room. “Come over and have a beer!”

Justin hesitated. The last thing he wanted at 11:00 a.m. was a beer. And he was mad at Pat and Derrick. Yes, they had helped him with Brian the night before, but he wasn’t certain that he liked their attitude. They had appropriated Brian when he was helpless and then treated Justin like he was some kid who didn’t know shit.

“We’ve got a little hair of the dog!” said Pat as Justin carried his plate into the living room where the men had staked out their territory. 

“Here, son,” said Denny’s father. Billy Duggan pushed a glass of black liquid at him. “This’ll put some hair on your chest.”

“No thanks.” Justin made a face. “I don’t like to drink before noon.”

“This isn’t drinkin’,” insisted a red-haired man who looked like a Duggan cousin. “This is Guinness. It’s like mothah’s milk!” He guffawed and chugged down the dark, foamy ale.

“Denny says Brian’s under the weather,” said Billy. “Too bad you fellas had to leave so soon last night. After the reception we all came back here and the REAL party started!”

“We had to give Denny a true Southie send-off,” said Pat.

“Pat and Derrick are driving me and Carole to the airport this evening,” Denny told Justin. “I can hardly wait to get out of this cold and get onto that beach at Cancun!”

“I know you’ll have a great honeymoon.” Justin thought about the trip to the Virgin Islands that Brian had planned and then had to cancel the previous spring. Now, with Brian still on suspension from Vangard and money tight, it would probably be a long time until they got another chance to go on a romantic vacation.

“Yeah, once we get back we’re moving right into the new house,” Denny confided. “And getting ready for the baby, too.”

“I can’t believe it,” Justin said. “You – a father!”

“I know,” Denny marveled. “I can’t believe it either.”

“Brian has a son,” Justin said suddenly. He’d never told Denny that much about Brian’s personal life. To be truthful, Justin hadn’t wanted to share details about Brian with anyone, not even his straight roommate. “His name is Gus. He’s five.”

“A son?” Denny looked puzzled. “But I thought that...? Well, you know.”

“Queers can have kids, too,” Justin said pointedly. “Brian’s friend Lindsay had Gus, and she and her partner are raising him. But we see him all the time. Sometimes he stays over at the loft.”

“Then you probably know more about little kids than I do!” Denny laughed. “But that’s the good thing about having such a large family – we never have to worry about a baby sitter!” He leaned over and whispered in Justin’s ear. “No one’s supposed to know, but Carole found out she’s having a girl.”

“Wow,” said Justin. He didn’t know what else to say. He tried to imagine Denny with a baby in his arms, but it was difficult. Then he tried to picture himself with a baby in his own arms. His son. Or daughter. It seemed impossible.

“Yeah,” Denny agreed. “Wow.”

“Hey, Den,” said Pat, sidling up to Justin. He was drinking Guinness and shots. “Your ma is looking for you. You haven’t finished packing yet.”

“Okay, Uncle Pat,” Denny sighed. “I’ll see you, Justin.”

Justin nodded. “Good luck, Denny. Have a great trip.” And he watched Denny make his way through the crowd and go upstairs.

“Too bad your partner got sick,” said Pat. “He’s a real beauty. But I’m sure you already know that.”

“Of course I know it,” said Justin, quietly. “I’m not an idiot. And a lot of other guys seem to notice it, too. All the time.”

Pat laughed. “Don’t worry, kid. I’m not after your man! I have my hands full with my own!”

“So you say.” Justin set down his plate. It was time to get back to the guesthouse. Time to get back to Brian.

“I mean it.” Pat put his hand on Justin’s shoulder. “But you’re a beauty, too, kid. Never forget that. Yes, guys are going to hit on your hot partner, but they’re also going to hit on you. Make sure that Brian remembers that.”

“We don’t play those games.” Justin gave Pat a chilly glance.

“You have a lot to learn, Justin,” Pat returned. “But you might as well enjoy yourself while you’re learning. I’m sure that Brian enjoyed himself plenty while he was coming up.”

“I have to go.” Justin looked around, trying to remember where he’d left his coat. He finally found it on a chair, under a pile of other coats.

“You and Brian should come out to Provincetown this summer,” said Pat. “Derrick and I rent a house with a couple of other guys for the month of August. If you’ve never been to P-Town, you ought to give it a try. It’s like Gay Disneyland – if that’s not redundant!”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” said Justin, while thinking, No way in hell! “Say goodbye to Denny and Carole for me.”

“I’ll do that.” 

Pat watched Justin go out the front door into the swirling November snow. And then he went to find Derrick so they could go home.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin in charge.

Boston, November 2005

 

Preston Wellington-Bradford put down his book when he heard the young man come in the front door.

“Oh, Mr. Taylor?”

“Hello.” Justin paused beneath the archway into the parlor, looking very serious. “How’s Brian?”

“The last time I went up there he was rather listless.” Preston frowned. “I tried to take his temperature, but he was... er... uncooperative.”

Justin tried hard to keep from laughing at the thought of prissy Mr. Wellington-Bradford trying to nurse Brian. “I can imagine!”

“He had an indecent suggestion about what I could do with the thermometer,” Preston informed Justin. “I’m certain he was only joking.”

“I’m sure he was,” said Justin. “Brian doesn’t like being sick.”

“Would you like me to bring up more tea?” Preston asked. “Or something for lunch? Does your partner like cucumber sandwiches?”

“No,” said Justin. Cucumber sandwiches, huh? “I don’t think Brian will feel like eating just yet.” 

“Will you be staying on for the weekend?” Preston wondered. “Mr. Kinney originally made his reservation for three days only – that ends tomorrow.” 

Justin shrugged. “I don’t know. I pretty sure Brian would like to go home as soon as possible, but I don’t know if he’s up to a long drive.”

Preston shook his head in sympathy. “And you have to drive all the way to Philadelphia?”

“Pittsburgh,” Justin corrected.

“Oh, my! That’s even farther away!” Preston sighed. “Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Justin said sincerely. “I appreciate your concern.”

He went up to the room and entered it quietly. The curtains were drawn, the television was turned off, and the fire was burning briskly. This is nice, Justin thought. Warm and homey. If poor Brian wasn’t sick, this would be the perfect romantic getaway.

“You don’t have to tiptoe,” Brian mumbled. “I’m not asleep.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes. His hair was sticking up straight in the back. 

Justin sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed down Brian’s hair. He loved Brian’s unruly hair. It made him wonder what Brian had been like as a little boy, with his hair uncombed, his knees dirty, and mischief in his eyes.

“Thank God you’re back,” said Brian, leaning back on the big pillows. “That Preston guy wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone! First he poured a ton of over-the-counter medicine into me – that fucking Nyquil is stronger than Special-K! Then I had to listen to every detail of how he and his partner, What’s His Name, found, bought, and renovated this 19th century monstrosity. And he told me the history of every old piece of shit in this room, including that fucking Nazi cuckoo clock on the mantle.” Brian licked his dry lips and fumbled for the bottle of Evian water Preston had left on the nightstand. Justin took it and held it up to Brian’s lips as he sipped. “What the fuck is it with queers and broken-down old crap?”

Justin set the water bottle back on the nightstand. “Maybe people who have been rejected themselves in one way or another can see the beauty in things other people have thrown away – old houses, old furniture, old neighborhoods. Maybe it makes them happy to resurrect that beauty and show it off to the world.”

Brian stared at Justin quizzically. “You’re quite the philosopher, aren’t you, Sunshine?”

“Don’t mind me,” said Justin. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of weird things lately. I guess watching Denny get married made me think about the future. Denny’s married, he has a real job, and he and Carole are going to move into a house when they get back from their honeymoon. They’re like real adults, living a real life.”

“So what we’re living isn’t ‘real life’?” Brian asked. “Maybe there’s something else you want, instead? A life like Denny has, with wife and kids and the whole nine yards?”

“I don’t know,” Justin said truthfully. “That’s how I grew up. It was a good life... except when I turned out to be a big queer.”

“Yeah, thank God for that.” Brian pulled Justin close to him. “I wouldn’t be wasting my time with Denny or any other straight guy. I had a client once who wanted to fuck me. He owned a big company – mucho bucks – and had a wife and two kids at home. But on business trips he spent all his time in bars looking for dick. He dangled his account in front of me, but said that I’d only get it if I fucked him.”

“Was he hot?” Justin asked.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Brian rolled his eyes. “If he’d been hot, I would have done him first thing, account or no account. This guy was the antithesis of hot. And he was also two things I can’t stand – a self-hating closet case and a bully. He tried to bully me into having sex with him, while pretending he was Mr. Family Man. My boss at the time, Marty Ryder, wanted that account badly, and he told me to do whatever it took to get it.”

Brian paused and closed his eyes. He remembered standing in Marvin Telson’s hotel room wearing nothing but his faded 501’s. Remembered asking Telson if he wanted a show. Remembered feeling the sexual power he had over the older man. But he also remembered the feeling of being bought. Of not having a choice. Of being powerless and humiliated and scared. And knowing that he never wanted to feel that way again as long as he fucking lived!

“So, did... did you do it with him?” Justin couldn’t look Brian in the face, afraid of what he might see. 

“No,” Brian breathed. “I was going to, but... I didn’t. I’ve done a lot of shitty things in my life, but that wasn’t one of them.”

“I love you, Brian,” Justin whispered.

Brian winced. “You’re only saying that because I’m sick and a fucking mess and you feel sorry for me.”

“Think again.” Justin slipped off his shoes and his jeans and got under the covers. Brian’s body still felt warm, but not the way it had the night before.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Brian. “I want to sell the Vette.”

“The Vette?” Justin blinked. “You can’t! You love that car!”

“Maybe, but in the end it’s only that – a car,” Brian stated glumly. “And I... I need the money, Justin. I have to be honest with you. I can’t hold out against Gardner Vance much longer. The lawyer fees are killing me, let alone our daily expenses. If Vance doesn’t settle with me soon, I’m not going to be able to continue fighting him. And he knows it. He’s got the deep pockets and I have... well, I have nothing. I thought some of my best clients – Ramson, Brown Athletics, Eyeconic Optics – would pressure him to take me back, but it’s not happening. And they won’t leave Vance and take a chance with me on my own. And why should they? I don’t have an office, I don’t have a staff, I don’t have shit! I can’t even afford to hire Cynthia, let alone a creative staff to dazzle the clients. No one is going to take me seriously and that’s the truth!”

“What about other agencies? Other cities?” Justin’s heart was pounding. These were things that Justin knew had been preying on Brian’s mind, but he had refused to discuss them.

“No luck so far,” Brian admitted. “Gardner has done everything he can to poison the waters against me. And he has a lot of power in the business. He’s convinced the other big agencies that I’m a loose cannon and not to be trusted. I may find a job somewhere – but where? People may forget that stupid fucking incident with Lloyd Sutton – but when? And what the fuck are we supposed to do until then?”

“We’ll get by,” Justin vowed. “I don’t need to take any classes next semester. I’ll quit the Watermark and get a better job – an office job. We can live on my salary while you look for a better job – or start your own agency! “

“Listen,” said Brian. He burrowed his face into Justin’s silky hair. It smelled like green tea shampoo. He tried to memorize the scent, just in case. “I don’t want you to sacrifice your dream to prop me up. That’s fucked! You have your whole fucking life ahead of you and you should have everything you want out of that life. You don’t deserve anything less than everything you want. And... and I’m not sure I can give it to you. I know you look at Denny and see someone your own age who has his whole life mapped out, while you’re still trying to figure it all out. Or maybe you look at Michael and Ben and think, ‘Why can’t I be like them? Why can’t I have a house and a kid and a life theirs? Or a life like my parents have?’ Instead of being tied to someone who... who can’t give you those things. Or won’t.”

Justin grabbed Brian’s chin and turned his face around, until they were nose to nose. “Don’t put bullshit words in my mouth, Brian! If that’s what you think I want, then you don’t know shit! I have exactly what I want! Right here, in this bed! Or back in Pittsburgh, in the loft! Or in the Jeep or the Vette or hitchhiking by the side of the fucking road! Wherever YOU are – that’s where I want to be! So sell the Vette if you have to. Sell the Jeep. And sell the loft. None of it really matters. Only us. WE matter! That’s what I want, Brian. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“But I want you to know the score,” Brian murmured. He felt very hot again. And very tired. “I stand to lose everything I have. And I want you to understand that you’re always free to go – no locks on our door. I never want you to feel that you owe me anything, because you don’t.”

“No,” said Justin, holding Brian tightly. “Only my whole fucking life. Only everything that means anything to me. You might lose it all – so what? It’s only money. It’s only stuff. But there’s one thing you’ll never lose. Ever.”

Brian wasn’t certain if it was the fever that was muddling his brain or all the Nyquil Mr. Wellington-Preston had plied him with, but he suddenly felt a kind of euphoria. Like he had been lifted out of his body and was floating somewhere very high, above the November clouds and the light snow and the noise of the city. And he wasn’t alone up there. Someone else was there with him.

“Hello, Justin,” he whispered as he closed his eyes.

“Hello, Brian,” said Justin. “Go to sleep. I’m here. And everything is fine.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Driving home.

Boston/Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

Very early Friday morning Justin packed up the Jeep, settled a well-bundled Brian into the passenger’s seat, and set off for Pittsburgh.

He had originally planned to break up the trip by staying in Scranton for a night, but as he drove and as Brian tossed and mumbled in his seat, Justin was afraid that if they paused, they’d spend the rest of the weekend holed up in some crummy motel. And if Justin had to deal with a crabby patient, he’d much rather deal with him in the loft, surrounded by all their creature comforts, as well as an eager support system.

The journey was also prolonged by the number of stops he had to make because Brian urgently needed to use the john. Some were false alarms, but most were not. After each stop, Brian would emerge shaky and sweating, licking his dry lips and apologizing for being a fucking pain in the ass. Yes, Brian Kinney saying that he was sorry! Justin shook his head, knowing that for Brian being ill and dependent on Justin’s care was far worse than feeling like his guts were being turned inside out.

Finally, well after midnight, Justin guided the Jeep into the garage behind their building. He was exhausted, having driven the last 200 miles with the window partly rolled down, the cold November air rushing over him to keep himself awake.

“Come on,” Justin said, gently tugging Brian out of his seat. “Watch your step.”

“Wha?” Brian’s eyes were red and heavy.

“We’re home,” Justin replied simply.

“Jesus,” Brian whispered. “I feel like we’ve been in this fucking Jeep for a week.” 

“I know.” Justin gripped Brian’s arm, hoping that he was strong enough to make it to the main entrance. 

“What about the bags?” Brian asked as he steadied himself against Justin as they walked.

“I’ll get them later. But first I want to get you into bed.”

Brian laughed weakly. “Sounds like a plan. My dick needs some attention.”

“Don’t worry,” Justin smiled. “I’ll take care of your dick. And your head. And your stomach. And your ass, too.”

“You stay away from my ass,” Brian mumbled. “I’m a top! I don’t need some twink taking advantage of me when I’m feeling slightly under the weather.”

“Yeah,” said Justin. He pressed the button to call the elevator. “I’ll keep that under advisement.”

Once they were inside the loft, Justin breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, they were home. That’s what it felt like. Justin had been living in this space for five months, but for the first time it really, truly felt like home. Their home. His and Brian’s.

Justin got Brian undressed and into bed, pulling an extra fleece throw over him to make certain he was warm enough. Then he turned up the heat and went down to bring up their bags.

 

***

“Justin?”

He heard Brian calling to him from the bedroom sometime before dawn.

“I’m here,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He felt Brian’s forehead. It was warm. Very warm. He knew there was no thermometer in the loft. After all, Brian didn’t believe in being sick. He’d have to call Debbie tomorrow and ask her to bring one over. And some chicken soup, too. “Have a little water.” He held the bottle to Brian’s lips as he sucked it down.

“I woke up and you’re weren’t here.” Brian shifted restlessly, trying to get comfortable.

Justin straightened the covers and smoothed them down. “I was sleeping on the sofa. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Where the fuck were you?” Brian demanded vaguely. His voice was hoarse.

“I just told you – I was on the sofa,” Justin explained.

“You said you wouldn’t leave,” Brian whispered. His eyes were closed and his hair hung down on his forehead in dark, damp tendrils.

“I’m right here.” Justin peeled back the duvet and climbed in beside Brian. His body felt hot again. If he’s still like this in the morning, I’m going to call the doctor, Justin thought. “I promised – and when I promise something, I mean it.”

“That’s what they all say.” The words were almost too faint to be heard.

“Who?” Justin asked. “Who says that?”

“People.” Brian’s eyes were still shut. “They tell you things, but they never mean them. Your parents. Your friends. Your boss. Tricks. It’s all bullshit.” 

“Well, I mean what I say,” Justin replied. “I’m not other people, Brian.”

“Gardner,” Brian said. “He’s a fucking liar. Sweet as honey when I’m making him money. But when I screw up he’s the first to kick me to the curb like a fucking dog. Just like Stockwell. All those fucking promises! Never believe anyone.” Brian voice trailed off. “Never...”

“Don’t talk about that now,” said Justin. “It’s not important.”

“My old man,” Brian continued. “He thinks he’s the shit. Thinks he’s a ladies’ man. Brags all about his rich, successful son. Wait until he sees me now. Wait until he finds out I’m fucked! Who’ll he go to for a handout now? Huh? Who’ll pay off the guys when he loses at poker? Who’ll pay for his booze? Let’s see him brag then, the fucker!”

Justin swallowed. He knew Brian’s father was dead. Had been dead long before Justin ever came into Brian’s life. Was Brian delirious? Should he call Michael and Ben for help? Or get Brian dressed and take him to the emergency room?

“Mom – look at your perfect little boy!” Brian breathed. “I’m a faggot, Mom! That’s the truth! Don’t look at me like that! If you think I’m going to Hell, then fuck you! So I’m going to Hell. I don’t give a fuck! There’s nobody in Heaven I want to know anyway!”

“Your mother isn’t here.” Justin stroked Brian’s damp face. “You’re in the loft. It’s okay!” But Brian didn’t answer. “Brian? Who am I? Answer me!”

“Who are you?” Brian opened his eyes slowly. He fixed on Justin’s face, but his eyes were unfocused. “Angel of mercy. I remember. You saved me once. Why did you do that? I’m not worth the trouble. Go save someone else.”

“I’m Justin.” He pressed himself against Brian ardently. “Put your arms around me. I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t let anyone hurt you!”

“Too late,” Brian muttered. “Too late.”

“It’s not.” Justin lay his head against Brian’s heart. “It’s not too late.”

“Justin,” Brian sighed, wrapping his arms around his lover. 

“That’s my name,” said Justin. “Never forget it, Brian. I won’t let you forget it.”

But Brian didn’t answer.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the E.R.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

Michael shuddered as he rushed into the Emergency Room of Allegheny General Hospital.

He had nothing but bad memories connected with this place. It had been the site of Ben’s hospitalizations, where Hunter had ended up after he collapsed on the street, and also where the ambulance had rushed Uncle Vic after Michael and Emmett found him in his chair, the television turned to the E! Network.

In other words, the place was bad news. Fucking bad news!

“Calm down,” said Ben, placing a soothing hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s nothing. You know what a drama queen Brian is. And Justin isn’t too far behind him. It’s probably only a false alarm.”

“You don’t know Brian,” Michael insisted. “He’ll never admit he’s sick! For him to go to the hospital... well, something must really be wrong!”

“Don’t panic until we find out what’s going on.” Ben walked purposefully to the Triage Desk. “Excuse me? Can you tell me if Brian Kinney is here?”

The woman behind the desk glanced up from her paperwork and frowned. “Please fill out these forms and take a seat. You’ll have to wait your turn to see a doctor.”

“No,” said Ben, patiently. “I don’t need to fill out a form, ma’am. I need to know if our friend is here in the ER. His partner called us on his cellphone and told us to meet him here.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “I don’t have that information, sir. Please take a seat.”

“Look,” Michael burst out. “All we want to know is if our friend is here! Is that too fucking much to ask?”

The woman stared at the two men impassively. She was used to dealing with upset and often unreasonable people every day – two more didn’t faze her at all. “Please take a seat, sir.”

“Michael, let’s sit down.” Ben coaxed his partner over to a row of plastic chairs and settled him down. “Justin must be here somewhere. I’d call his cell, but it’s not allowed inside the hospital building.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said, leaning against Ben’s broad shoulder. “What if there’s something Justin isn’t telling us? What if Brian overdosed? Or what if it’s... something worse? What if his cancer’s come back?”

“I told you not to panic,” Ben ordered. “Jumping to conclusions before we know what’s going on doesn’t help the situation.”

They had been waiting for what seemed to Michael an eternity, but was in actuality only about 20 minutes, when Justin came out through the double doors of the Triage Unit. His long hair was uncombed, his face was covered with blond stubble, and his clothes looked like he’d thrown them on hurriedly – even his socks were mismatched.

“Justin!” Michael leaped to his feet. “Where’s Brian?”

Justin walked over and slumped in the plastic seat next to Michael. “The doctor’s examining him now. They told me to wait out here until they called for me.”

“What happened?” asked Ben. The last he and Michael had heard before the call from the hospital was that Brian and Justin had gone to Justin’s roommate’s wedding in Massachusetts.

“He got sick at the reception,” Justin replied. “I thought he was just drunk, but it was more than that. He had a high fever and was puking like crazy. Then he started having the runs, too. He was really miserable. I thought it would be better to get him home rather than stay in a strange guesthouse until he got better. We drove all yesterday – all the way from Boston. We had to stop about a million times for him to be sick or take a shit, but we eventually got back home around 1:00 a.m.”

“Jesus,” breathed Michael. “Poor Brian!”

“He slept a few hours and then he woke up and started talking all this weird stuff. About Gardner Vance. And about his parents.” Justin leaned over and pressed the heels of his hands against his red eyes. “He was talking like his dad was still alive. And he said a bunch of other crazy things, too. It was like he was delirious. I got scared, so I got him into his sweats and drove him here. I was afraid we’d have to wait for hours to see a doctor, but he pretty much fell over the minute we walked in the door. They took him directly inside.”

“Sounds like dehydration,” Ben pronounced. “Was he exposed to anyone who had the flu? And how do you feel, Justin?”

Justin shrugged. “I feel fine. But I had a flu shot about a month ago. They made everyone at the restaurant get one. But who knows what Brian’s been exposed to? Since he was suspended from Vangard he sometimes spends hours just wandering around the city while I’m at work or at class. Who the fuck knows where he goes?” Justin licked his lips. “Or who he’s been with?”

Michael and Ben exchanged knowing looks. “It’s possible that he picked something up from Gus,” Ben pointed out. “Small children are like virus incubators.”

“It’s possible,” Justin sighed. “But Lindsay hasn’t said anything about Gus or J.R. being sick. I don’t know. I don’t really give a damn how he got it! I only want Brian to be okay!”

“That’s what we all want,” said Michael. He hesitated for a moment, then took Justin’s hand and squeezed it. He had very mixed feelings about Justin and his relationship – or whatever it was – with Brian. But he couldn’t deny that Justin really loved his friend. “He’s going to be fine. You’ll see. Tomorrow he’ll be screaming to come home – and then we’ll all go nutty trying to nurse him!”

Justin managed to work up a small smile. “He’s not the easiest patient, is he?”

Michael guffawed. “That’s the biggest fucking understatement of all time!”

“Is there anyone here with Kinney?”

The three men looked up. A nurse holding a clipboard was standing at the entrance to the Triage Unit.

“I am!” Michael and Justin said in unison as they stood up.

“Would you come this way?” She turned and pushed back through the double doors.

And Justin, Michael, and Ben followed her into the inner sanctum of the ER.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doctor.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

“I’m Dr. Banerjee,” said the tall resident, holding out his right hand. “You are here for Mr. Kinney?”

“I’m his partner,” Justin said resolutely. He stepped forward and firmly shook the doctor’s hand. He didn’t think the hospital would prohibit him from seeing Brian, but you never knew. This was still Mayor Stockwell’s Pittsburgh, after all – a place where queers had few rights, but especially not the right to claim each other as family. “Justin Taylor.”

A flicker of doubt crossed the doctor’s face. “And these gentleman are?”

Justin looked over at Michael and Ben. Michael’s face was pale with anxiety. “This is... um... Brian’s brother, Michael. And his partner, Professor Bruckner. How is Brian? Can we see him now?”

“Your friend was very severely dehydrated, but he should be resting comfortably soon,” the doctor said. “Dehydration can be quite dangerous, even for an adult. He’s being taken up to a room at this time. As soon as he’s settled you may go up and see him. But first I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may? Mr. Kinney was not terribly informative.”

“Of course.” Justin swallowed. The smell of the hospital made him nervous. It was all antiseptic and blood and apprehension. “I’ll answer as best I can.”

The doctor took a silver fountain pen out of the pocket of his white coat. “When was the onset of the illness?”

That Justin could answer easily. “Wednesday night. We were at a wedding in Boston. It was during the reception. Brian had a little too much to drink and I thought he was just feeling the effects. But when we got back to our room, he seemed worse, not better.”

“Vomiting? Yes? Any stomach cramps?” the doctor asked.

“He was throwing up a lot, but he didn’t say anything about cramps. And then he started to have diarrhea. And a fever, too. That’s when I knew he wasn’t simply hung over.”

The doctor wrote something down on Brian’s chart. And then something else. Justin wished that he knew what the doctor was writing. What kinds of judgments he was making about Brian – if any. Stop it, Taylor, he thought, you’re just being paranoid.

“And those symptoms continued the next day?”

Justin nodded. “He seemed better in the morning, but he was very listless and he still had a temperature. And he couldn’t keep much food down. Only a little soup and tea.”

Dr. Banerjee made another note on his clipboard. “You say you were in Boston. How did you get back to Pittsburgh?”

“I drove.” Justin had the sinking feeling that, in retrospect, that might have been the wrong thing to do. “All day. Brian was still sick and I thought that if I got him home, he’d feel better. But last night he seemed worse. He was... saying things.”

“Was he delirious?” the doctor asked.

“I don’t know,” said Justin, running his fingers through his hair in desperation. “He knew who I was and everything... but it worried me. That’s when I brought him here.”

“Hm,” the doctor made a few more notes. “What did he eat that night? Anything unusual?”

Justin shook his head. “Wedding reception food. Some roast beef and potatoes. Salad. A piece of wedding cake. The night before he had sushi, but he was fine afterwards. I don’t think anyone else got sick from the food at the reception. My friend Denny – he was the groom – would have told me about it if they had.”

“You say he had a lot to drink,” said Dr. Banerjee. “How much is a lot?”

Justin paused to think. “A few glasses of Guinness. Shots of whiskey – I don’t know how many. Bailey’s. And a mixture of all three. They call them Irish Car Bombs. Unfortunately, they exploded on Brian.” Justin knew it sounded bad. Like Brian was an alcoholic or something. And that was far from the case. This doctor had to understand that! “Most of the men at the reception were drinking at least as much as he did. And Brian is used to alcohol.”

“Brian’s always been able to hold his liquor,” Michael chimed in. “He has a pretty high tolerance.”

Dr. Banerjee frowned. “His head may have a high tolerance, but his stomach might well be a different story.”

“What do you think is the matter with him, Doctor?” asked Ben, using his serious professor voice.

“It doesn’t sound like food poisoning,” said the doctor. “It could be influenza – he has a fever with vomiting and diarrhea – but I doubt it. More likely it’s gastroenteritis. That is often mistaken for flu but is a different virus altogether. It is also possible that he has the beginnings of an ulcer, which would make the symptoms much more severe. Has he been under stress lately? How has he been eating?”

“He lost his job!” Michael exclaimed. “And his eating habits are lousy, Doc! I’m always telling him that he should take better care of himself, but he never listens!”

“Michael, please!” Justin pleaded. “You’re making it sound like it’s Brian’s fault that he got sick! We don’t know that he really has an ulcer. And even if he does, he’s not to blame!” Justin turned to the doctor. “He’s in excellent physical condition, Doctor, really he is. He works out all the time and he takes vitamins. Ever since...” Justin paused. It hit him suddenly. Something he had never considered. “He had cancer two years ago.”

“Is that so?” The doctor made yet another note on Brian’s chart. “What kind of cancer?”

“Testicular,” Michael interjected. “And he had radiation. That wiped him out, let me tell you! But they told him he was all clear.”

“I’m sure he is,” Dr. Banerjee replied. “However, cancer treatments are very stressful. Just knowing you have cancer is a strain on the body and the psyche. Radiation does take a lot out of a person. And you say he has recently lost his job? His immune system could well be under siege.” He gazed at the three men and pursed his lips. “Has he been tested for HIV?”

“He gets tested every six months,” said Justin, rubbing his eyes. The lights in the hallway were way too bright. “The last time was in September. We got tested together. We were both negative.”

“That’s good to know.” The doctor looked up at Justin and smiled slightly. “I’ll need the name of his primary physician, as well as some other details. The nurse will get that information from you when you go up to his room, as well as checking his insurance and other things. But I think we’re finished here.”

“Does that mean we can see him?” Justin said, relief flooding through him. “Now?”

“Two floors up,” said Dr. Banerjee, pointing down the hall to the main elevator. “Ask at the Nurses’ Station. He is on an IV to rehydrate, so he’ll have to stay here overnight. But unless something comes up in his tests, I don’t see why he shouldn’t be able to go home tomorrow morning – as long as he gets some rest and follows strict instructions.” 

“We’ll make sure he does everything he’s supposed to!” Michael grabbed the doctor’s hand and pumped it. “Thanks, Doc!”

“Yes, thank you, Dr. Banerjee,” said Justin. He looked up into the doctor’s dark eyes. Wondering if there was anything he was holding back. But Justin saw nothing hidden there. Only friendly concern. “And thanks for letting us see Brian. I’ve heard stories... I mean, at some places they won’t let you in to see your partner. I was afraid that... that Brian would be here all alone. And I promised never to leave him alone.”

“His brother would be allowed, regardless,” said the doctor, nodding at Michael. “But if anyone gives you any difficulty, young man, have them call me. I’ll make certain that you are not prevented from seeing your friend.” The doctors patted Justin’s shoulder.

“Thanks again,” Justin whispered.

And the three men headed for the elevator to go up to the Third Floor.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian Kinney -- the Impatient Patient!

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

Tired.

That’s how he felt.

Like all the energy had been leeched out of him.

“How’s that, my darlin’?”

Brian opened his eyes and winced. There was a bright light shining right in his face.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Put your hand right here, darlin’. Hold steady while I put in the IV. That’s a good boy.”

The nurse was trying to be gentle, but Brian hated needles. No matter how delicate she was trying to be, nothing about sticking a needle and then a tube into his left hand was going to feel good.

“Now you stay still, my darlin’. You don’t want to pull at that.” The nurse taped the area around the IV. “This’ll fix you up just fine. You’ll feel much better when we get some liquid into you.”

“Can’t I go home?” It felt like something hard was sticking into his back. Like an iron bar. A hospital bed must be the most uncomfortable fucking thing ever designed by man.

“Maybe tomorrow. Depends on what the doctor says.” The nurse smiled as she disposed of the IV remnants. “We’ll take care of everything. You just lay back and relax. Think of this as a nice little vacation.”

Brian sighed. She must be fucking kidding! “A vacation is the White Party in South Beach. A vacation is Ibiza. The Virgin Islands. London. P-Town in August. It’s not a fucking torture bed in Allegheny General with a fucking tube stuck in your fucking hand!”

“Language!” the nurse admonished. “I know you’re feeling a bit cranky, but you’ll be much better this evening. If the doctor says it’s all right, we’ll bring you a nice dinner later. Something that will soothe your poor stomach. You must be hungry, aren’t you, my darlin’?”

“No,” Brian sniffed. “I doubt that I’ll ever eat again. And with this fucking tube in me, I won’t have to.”

The nurse laughed. “I can see you and me are going to get along just fine.” She patted Brian’s arm. “If you need to go to the bathroom, you press this little button and I’ll come and help you. I don’t want to see you trying to get up by yourself.” She pointed to the metal pole next to the bed that held the bag of saline solution, which was slowly dribbling into his body. “You don’t want to knock this over. All right?”

“All right.” Brian hated the thought of this woman having to help him to the bathroom, but since he was hooked up to this fucking IV drip, he didn’t have much choice. At least he didn’t have a tube up his dick. That had been the biggest nightmare of his stay at Johns Hopkins for his ball-ectomy – the fucking catheter in his cock.

“You want me to turn on the TV? Or do you want to have a little rest?”

“No! Please, no fucking television!” Brian swallowed. His throat was so fucking dry. “Can I have something to drink?”

“Certainly.” The nurse held a plastic cup with a straw to his lips. When he was finished, she set it on the table next to the bed. “I’m going to leave this right here in case you get thirsty again.”

“Where’s Justin?” Brian asked, suddenly. He knew Justin had brought him to the hospital, but then he disappeared. “Is he here?”

“Who’s that, my darlin’?”

“He’s my...” Brian’s voice trailed off. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing and fuck it up. They might not let Justin in to see him if they thought they were a couple of queers. “My friend. He brought me here.”

“I’m sure he must be waiting for you.” The nurse picked up his chart and looked at it. “But we had to get you settled down before you can have visitors, you know?”

Brian turned his head away. There was a white curtain drawn between him and the patient in the next bed, but he could hear someone coughing. And the sound of a television playing some football game. Great. He wouldn’t be able to sleep at all tonight with some sick guy who was obsessed with football in the next bed.

The nurse left the room and Brian lay there, feeling sorry for himself. Everything was going wrong lately, like the world was conspiring against him. He was a fatalist by nature, but this was fucking ridiculous!

Tired. So fucking tired.

Brian closed his eyes. His head felt light, like he was falling backwards.

“Brian.”

A cool hand touched his, tentatively. Wrapped itself around his right hand. Squeezed.

“Justin.”

Blue eyes. Looking down at him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Dandy. Just dandy.”

That grin. “Liar.”

“Holy shit, Brian! You look terrible!” Another voice broke into his head.

“Thank you, Mikey. I’ll fire my stylist first chance I get.”

“Michael, do you mind?” Justin’s voice was sharp.

“Sorry.” Michael’s brow was furrowed. “I was so worried about you!” He stepped back, leaning against Ben. “I hate hospitals.”

“Welcome to the fucking club.” Brian tried to sit up.

“Careful.” Justin reached for Brian’s pillows and adjusted them. “Is that better?”

“Thanks.” Brian settled back slowly. “It’s hard to do shit with this fucking thing stuck in my hand.”

“We talked to your doctor,” said Justin. “Dr. Banerjee. He said you can go home tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Brian shook his head. “Goddamn. Can’t you wrap me in a sheet and carry me out like the laundry?”

Justin smiled. “I don’t think so.” He leaned over and brushed Brian’s hair back from his forehead. “You were dehydrated. They’re just making sure you’re okay.”

“Tell me something I don’t fucking know.” Brian licked his lips as Justin stroked his hair. He hated being fussed over. Hated feeling helpless and vulnerable. But he also remembered how desolate it had felt to be alone and in pain at Johns Hopkins, surrounded by strangers. “I... I’m glad you’re here. I don’t mean to sound like a shit.”

“You’re not a shit,” Justin said fondly. “But I was so fucking scared last night. That’s why I brought you here. I thought you were really sick and I didn’t know what else to do. I know this isn’t your favorite place to be, Brian, but tomorrow you’ll come home and everything really will be dandy. Right?”

“Right.” Brian began to relax – a little.

“And next week you’ll be good as new!” Michael exclaimed. “You wouldn’t want to miss Thanksgiving at Ma’s, would you?”

Brian rolled his eyes. “That’s all my fucking stomach needs – to be stuffed like a turkey WITH Deb’s super-duper dried-out turkey and all the over-cooked trimmings. If she makes that Jello salad with the fucking fruit in it this year, I’ll leave the table!”

“Hey!” cried Michael. “Asshole! I love that Jello mold with the fruit in it! It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without it!”

“Jello what?” Justin frowned. “What’s that?”

“Some recipe Deb got out of ‘Ladies’ Home Journal’ circa 1974,” Brian grumbled. “Jello in the shape of a fucking turkey, with canned cherries and grapes floating inside it. She serves it every year. It’s truly disgusting.”

“It is not!” Michael returned. “It’s good!”

Justin laughed at the two of them bickering. “Sounds intense!” 

He felt Brian’s fingers tighten around his. He also noted that Brian was smirking slightly as he bitched at Michael. Smirking and complaining. The surest sign that he was getting back to normal.

And that made Justin say a silent prayer of thanks. Just a little one.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin on guard at the hospital.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

Justin stayed at the hospital as long as he was allowed. 

Michael and Ben left after lunch when it became obvious that Brian was going to be all right. But Justin stayed on because he knew he’d never be able to do anything or think about anything else until Brian was released.

During most of the afternoon Brian simply dozed while Justin read the paper, then some magazines he bought in the lobby gift shop. Justin also watched the nurses go in and out of the room, checking Brian’s IV line, changing the bag of saline solution, making notes on his chart, and answering the frequent calls of Brian’s coughing roommate, who seemed to press the button at least once every 20 minutes.

“Are you still here?” Brian yawned and sat up in bed. He still felt like he was underwater. “What time is it?”

Justin checked his watch. “Almost 5:00 They should be bringing your dinner pretty soon. The nurse said you could have some solid food this evening.” Lunch had been a cup of clear broth and four crackers, which Brian bitched and moaned about, and then ate as soon as the attendant left the room, much to Justin’s amusement.

“Fuck that.” Brian squirmed. The hospital bed was no more comfortable than it had been that morning. “Don’t you have a shift tonight at the Watermark?”

“I called Clarence and told him I couldn’t make it.” Justin set aside his magazine and pulled his chair closer to Brian’s bed. “He was pissed.”

“Listen, brat,” said Brian, his eyes still heavy with sleep. “I’m fine. I don’t want you to get into trouble with your boss. So if you want to work your shift, do it. I’m not going anywhere. There’s no reason for you to sit here and waste your time watching me sack out.”

“I’m staying right here,” Justin said, slipping his hand into Brian’s. “If Clarence doesn’t like it, then screw him. I can get another waiter’s job anywhere in town. So don’t give me any crap about it, okay?”

“Okay,” Brian said grudgingly. As much as he hated to admit it, he liked having Justin there with him. It made him feel secure. Like someone was looking out for him. Like someone really gave a shit. “What would I do without you, twat?”

“You’d be in big trouble.” Justin smiled at his lover. “I keep telling you that, but you won’t believe me!”

Brian heard voices laughing on the other side of the white curtain. The coughing roommate had visitors. “I’m surprised the whole fucking gang isn’t here, gathering around my sick-bed like well-meaning vultures.”

“They aren’t here because I told Michael to call everyone and tell them to stay away. Especially Deb and Lindsay – because you know how they are!” Justin raised his eyebrows. “And to tell them that you’d be home tomorrow, but they had better call me before they just show up at the loft. Dr. Banerjee said you needed your rest – and I’m going to make certain you get it!”

“You’re kind of a hard-ass, aren’t you?” Brian said with admiration in his voice.

“I am when I have to be,” Justin replied.

A man rolled a cart into the room and placed a covered tray on Brian’s table. “Kinney,” he stated blandly. Then he delivered another tray to the roommate and left.

“Go ahead,” Brian urged. “Let’s see what horrors they’ve served up for dinner.”

Justin took the cover off the tray. “Looks like bread, mashed potatoes, and some kind of white meat.” He looked closer. “It might be turkey. Or chicken. Or something with yellow gravy.” Justin made a face. “And tea. And rice pudding for dessert.”

“Jesus,” Brian sighed. “This shit make airplane food look like haute cuisine.”

“It’s supposed to be bland,” Justin reminded him. “To soothe your stomach.”

“Give me the tea,” said Brian. “With plenty of sugar. Forget the rest of it.”

Justin put the teabag into the cup of semi-hot water and stirred in three packets of sugar. “You’re going to eat this food, you know. All of it.”

“I take back that shit I said about not minding you being here,” Brian grumped.

“You never said that,” Justin pointed out. “At least not out loud.”

“Then erase my last comment.” Brian sipped the tea. “Not enough sugar.”

“That’s all they brought.” Justin handed Brian a fork. “You might as well start with the mystery meat and the potatoes. I’ll butter your bread.”

Brian took a bite and chewed tentatively. “This is surprisingly bad, even for hospital food. There’s no taste at all. How about slipping out to the diner and bringing me back some lasagna and a couple of lemon squares?”

“I have a feeling that Deb will take care of that once you get back home. Remember – Thursday is Thanksgiving. You’ll be getting some real turkey then, with all the trimmings. But only if you have your strength back. So, eat this. Now.”

“Yes, Mom.” 

To Justin’s surprise, Brian ate the food, even the rice pudding. He must really be hungry, Justin thought, although he’d rather be forced to eat pussy than admit it.

At 8:00 an announcement came over the speakers that visiting hours were over.

“Time to toddle home, Sunshine,” Brian said.

Justin stood up reluctantly and set the magazines on Brian’s table. “If you’re bored tonight, you can read these.”

“Thanks.” Yes, thought Brian, thanks for being here.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to bring you home,” Justin promised.

“Thank God.” Brian held out his hand and Justin took it. 

“Be good tonight. Don’t give the nurses any shit, okay?” Justin didn’t want to let go of Brian’s hand.

“I’ll try to behave myself,” Brian replied, rolling his eyes. “As much as I possibly can.”

A nurse came in with a new saline bag for Brian’s IV. “You’ll have to leave now, young man. It’s 8:15.”

Justin hesitated. The nurse was standing there, waiting for him to go. But he looked at Brian’s face, which was pale and sad in the dim light of the hospital room, and his heart felt tight in his chest.

He leaned over and kissed Brian. “I love you.”

Brian nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered.

“Later,” said Justin. And then he was out the door.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quiet night.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

Justin considered stopping by the diner to pick up some food, but he was too tired. He also knew it would be hard to park on Liberty Avenue on the Saturday night before Thanksgiving. So he drove directly home from Allegheny General.

There were seven messages on his cell and six more on the loft phone. Four from Michael. Delete. Three from Deb. Delete. Two from Lindsay. He’d call her tomorrow after he brought Brian home. One from Emmett. Save for later. One from Clarence, bitching him out about canceling his shift. Delete. One from Daphne, asking if he and Brian were back from Boston yet. He’d call her when he found the time. And one from his mother.

“Justin? Darling? I thought you were coming home on Friday? Anyway, I’m checking in about Thursday. Grandma and Grandpa are flying in from Chicago with Aunt June on Wednesday night and they’re all anxious to see you. We’re going to eat at about 3:00, so I’d appreciate it if you got here by at least 2:00. You don’t need to bring anything. Call me the first chance you get. Bye, sweetheart.”

Justin sat in the silent loft, thinking.

What the fuck was he going to do? His mother expected him to be there for Thanksgiving. And his grandparents and aunt were coming, too. He hadn’t seen them in over a year and he wanted to see them.

But what about Brian?

That reminded him. He took out Brian’s cell – the nurse had given him Brian’s personal property to take care of when he’d been admitted to the hospital – and checked his voicemail. More messages from Michael. Deb. Lindsay. Delete. Delete. Delete.

And one from Brian’s sister.

“Brian? It’s Claire. I haven’t heard a thing from you about Thanksgiving. You better be planning to come this year, because I’m not going to sit with Mom all day and listen to her complain about you not showing up! Sending flowers is not enough, Brian! I know you think you can dodge these family responsibilities, but you can’t! I’m sick of having to do everything! I have my job AND two kids to raise all by myself, without any help from you, or Mom, or that goddamn ex-husband of mine! Brian? You hear me? I mean it! You better get back to me.”

Justin closed the cell and set it on Brian’s desk. He’d never heard Claire’s voice before, but the sound of it made him shudder. She sounded so angry. Poor Brian.

Now what would they do?

Deb and the gang expected them at dinner at Debbie and Carl’s house. His mom expected him at the Taylor home, with all of his family. And Claire demanded that Brian show up at his mother’s place.

Maybe we can just stay here, Justin thought. I could try cooking a turkey. Or we can order a take-out turkey dinner from the diner. That way we can avoid all these colliding obligations. It’ll be the two of us. We don’t need anyone else.

But the more he thought about it, the more Justin realized that hiding in the loft on Thanksgiving wasn’t an option. But no matter what they decided, someone was going to be pissed off. Or even a lot of people.

Justin now had a bitch of a headache.

He got undressed and crawled into bed. But as tired as he was, he couldn’t sleep.

Justin had never been alone in the loft all night before. Never slept in the big platform bed for the entire night without Brian next to him. Without the sound of his ragged breathing in his ear. The little wheeze his nose made. The hot press of his naked skin against Justin’s ass. His strong arms enveloping Justin’s body. Encircling him. Holding him. Possessing him.

Now he was horny. Fucking horny. Really fucking horny!

He closed his eyes as he worked his cock, moving his hand up and down the thick shaft. He hadn’t jerked off in ages – he hadn’t needed to. Whenever his hand went to his dick, Brian had always been there to take over. Smiling his wolfish smile as he wrapped his long fingers around him. Teasing him. Tempting him. Urging him on. And then Brian’s warm mouth. His lips sucking. His tongue swirling around the head of Justin’s cock.

Come on, little boy. Nasty little boy. Horny little boy. Come for me. 

“Ah!” Justin sighed as he spilled all over his hand and his stomach. “Brian!”

But Brian wasn’t there.

Justin wiped himself off with a handful of tissues and then rolled over, falling into a fitful, lonely sleep.

 

***

All night long Brian listened to his roommate on the other side of the white curtain. Coughing. Hacking. Grumbling in his sleep. Getting up and lumbering to the bathroom to take a piss.

Next time, a private room, Brian thought. That’s what he’d had at Johns Hopkins. A private room and a private duty nurse to take care of his needs. Male, of course. Young and hot. Too bad he hadn’t been in any condition at the time to take full advantage of the situation.

He wondered what Justin was doing right now. Probably sound asleep. That kid could sleep through a fucking hurricane! The sleep of the innocent. The sleep of someone whose mind was at peace. Whose conscience was clear.

Some nights Brian laid in bed and watched Justin sleep. His face was always so untroubled, his eyelids almost transparent, his eyelashes dark blond against his cheek. He slept quietly, soundlessly. Sometimes he clutched at Brian in the middle of the night, nuzzling at him. Or he held a pillow against his chest, cradling it. 

One weekend during the summer they’d had Gus staying at the loft. Gus was supposed to sleep on a futon next to the platform bed, but sometime during the night he’d climbed in with Brian and Justin. When Brian woke up in the morning, he saw the two boys tangled together like a pair of puppies, their arms hugging each other, their mouths open.

The night nurse came in to check Brian’s IV. He was an older man who had introduced himself as Raymond at the beginning of his shift. “But you can call me Ray,” he said with a grin. His dark face was worn, but kind.

“Still awake?”

Brian nodded. “I can’t sleep in this place. I need to go home.”

“You should be fine by the morning.” Ray deftly replaced the saline bag on the metal pole and reattached the line. “Your body sure was dry. You’ve been sucking in this liquid like a parched flower.”

“Tell me about it.” Brian rubbed his eyes. “Have you been doing this long?”

“Most of my life. Can’t imagine doing anything else.” 

Brian shook his head. “But to be surrounded by sick people all the time – cleaning up their shit, poking into their veins, dealing with their issues – isn’t it depressing?”

“No,” Ray said. “I like people. I like taking care of them. My mama always wanted me to be a doctor, but that wasn’t an option back when I was coming up. So I went into the Army. Trained to be a medic. Did two tours in ’Nam. When I got out, I went to nursing school. Not a lot of men in nursing in those days, but I didn’t care. I knew what I was good at – and this is it.”

“I thought I knew what I was good at, too,” said Brian. “Now – I’m not so sure.”

“People get sad thoughts when they’re laid up in bed,” said Ray. “Being sick makes you blue. But you’ll feel different when you get home. When you get a good home-cooked meal into you. When you’re in your own bed.”

“That’s for certain,” Brian agreed. “My own bed. That’s what I need. And what’s in it.”

“Amen to that.” Ray patted Brian on the shoulder. “You have a good sleep now. In the morning you should be heading home.”

“Yeah,” said Brian, easing back against the pillow. His eyes were feeling heavy. “Heading home. In the morning.”

And soon he was asleep.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin is overwhelmed.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

Jennifer Taylor was surprised when she opened the kitchen door and Justin was standing there.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Justin! What are you doing here, sweetheart?” she asked. “Why didn’t you just come in?”

Justin hesitated before he walked inside. “I thought Dad might be here. I didn’t see his car, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Your father is at the club,” Jennifer said, a chill in her voice. “He’s watching the game with his friends.”

“Oh.” Justin sat at the kitchen table. Ordinarily his mother would be making a large Sunday dinner, but she seemed to be heating up leftovers instead. “What about Molly? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

“She’s eating at her friend Kari’s house.” Jennifer sat down at the table across from Justin and took his hand. It felt cold. He’s not wearing his gloves, she thought. He’s not taking care of himself. “It’s been a long time since we’ve all sat down and had Sunday dinner together. And I mean all of us. Like a real family.”

“I know,” Justin sighed.

“That’s why I’m looking forward to Thursday,” Jennifer continued. “With Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt June – it’ll be like it used to be. Like... before.”

Justin snorted. “You mean before I was a fag?”

“I mean before you and your father had this disagreement,” Jennifer said sharply.

“Same thing.” Justin rubbed his forehead. That fucking headache was back. It must be stress. Or whatever the fuck. “Listen, Mom – I’m sorry, but I won’t be coming on Thursday. I... I can’t. And regardless of my problems with Dad, I won’t come without Brian. Especially not now.”

Jennifer stiffened. “What do you mean? Especially not now?”

“Brian’s in the hospital.” Justin body slumped as he said the words. “They were supposed to release him this morning, but they’re keeping him another day. At least, I hope it’s only one more day.”

“The hospital?” Jennifer’s mind was flying in all directions. “Justin, what happened in Boston? You never called me when you got back! Did he have an accident?”

“No,” said Justin, his face pale. “Not an accident. He’s sick, Mom.”

Jennifer’s heart stood still. Sick. That could mean only one thing. Her greatest fear. The thing that kept her awake night after night.

“Sick?” she said tentatively. “You mean... does he have... does he...?” She squeezed Justin’s hand. “AIDS? Is that it? Have you been exposed? I knew this would happen with that man! I just knew it!”

Justin’s eyes widened and he quickly pulled his hand out of her grasp. “No! Brian doesn’t have AIDS! That’s the first thing you think of? Because he’s queer?”

“What else would I think?” Jennifer retorted. “I’ve heard the stories about Brian Kinney. From Debbie Horvath. And from other people, too. I’ve been asking around! I’m your mother, Justin, and I have a right to know how you’re living your life!”

“And you think I’d risk myself? That I wouldn’t be safe, all the time?” Justin said darkly. “Or that Brian would risk my life like that?”

“You tell me.” Jennifer stared back at her son.

Justin looked into his mother’s eyes. Then he folded his arms on the table and lay his head down on them wearily. “That’s all you think about. Even you. Even my own mother. You don’t understand because you don’t want to understand! And you think I want to come into this house when you think that way? When Dad thinks that way? About me? About Brian? About all gay people? You think I can come and have a nice Thanksgiving dinner when it’s all a fucking lie?” Justin suddenly stood. “Well, fuck YOU, Mom! That’s what I say – fuck you!”

“Justin!” Jennifer recoiled. She saw the raw anger on her son’s face. And then she saw the fear.

“Brian’s sick,” Justin whispered. “He got sick in Boston. I took him to the hospital when we got back because he was worse. He was severely dehydrated. They did some tests. And now they want to do more. Late last night he spiked a high fever. They think he might have some kind of intestinal infection. Or an ulcer. Or... I don’t know! All I know is that I want him to come home! Just... come home...”

Justin’s voice failed and his face crumpled. 

Jennifer got up and went to him, taking her son in her arms and holding him tightly. “It’ll be all right, darling. I know it will. I’m sorry I said those things. So sorry. I’m sure Brian will be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” Justin gasped. He was trying not to break down. “And neither do I! Brian had cancer two years ago. What if it’s back? What if that’s what’s wrong with him?”

“Cancer?” Jennifer was at a loss. Debbie had never told her that. No one had.

“Yes.” Justin buried his face against his mother’s shoulder. “I love him so fucking much! If anything happens to Brian, I’ll... I’ll fucking die!”

Jennifer held her son, helpless to do anything for him. It had been so easy when he was a child. Easy to wipe away his tears. Easy to make everything all better with a few soft words and a hug.

But now he was a man and the problems he faced couldn’t be wiped away with a cookie and a pat on the head.

“Don’t cry, darling,” she breathed into Justin’s ear. “You’ll see. It’s all right.”

But neither of them believed that it really was.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar face at the Watermark.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

“You’re late,” Clarence snapped.

It was the start of the Sunday dinner rush at the Watermark and they were two waiters short.

“I’m sorry,” said Justin, grabbing his pad and tray from the station. “But my boyfriend is still in the hospital. They were supposed to release him this morning, but the doctor decided that he needed more tests. Then I had to talk to my mom about some things. And then I had to go back to the loft to change my clothes. And...”

Clarence put up his hand to stop Justin’s babbling. It had already been a hell of a day – and it was swiftly getting worse.

“I don’t give a damn about your personal life!” Clarence hissed. “Or about your fucking boyfriend! Or your mother! Or any of that other b.s. that has nothing to do with this restaurant! I gave you time off and what did you do? You screwed me over by not coming back when you said you were going to. You left me short on Saturday night – our busiest night of the fucking week! And now you’re late! So I don’t want to hear any more excuses. Just get your ass out on that floor. Now!”

“I said I was sorry,” Justin returned. “What more can I do?”

“You can go out there and attend to your tables,” Clarence said. “Sam has been covering for you, but he has his own work to do. Now get busy!”

One of the other waiters shook his head in sympathy, but then he turned away. Clarence was in a bitch of a mood and he didn’t want to get reamed out, too. 

Justin’s face was hot with mortification. He had always taken pride in his work, whether his schoolwork, his art, or waiting on a table. He wasn’t used to being treated like he was worthless. Yes, that’s the way he felt. That’s how Clarence made him feel. And Justin didn’t like it.

But he steeled himself and went out onto the floor. That’s what Brian would want him to do. To do his job and do it well. To focus on the job and fuck everything else! If he could only get through this shift, then it would be okay. Tomorrow Brian would be coming home for sure. He had to come home! Life would be back to normal. They could decide what they were going to do for Thanksgiving. Maybe start making plans for Christmas. That would be something to look forward to. Maybe they could get a tree for the loft. And he and Gus could decorate it. Maybe...

“Watch it!”

Justin almost collided with one of the busboys carrying a large tray of dirty dishes.

“Sorry.” Justin jumped out of the way.

Jesus. He better be careful. His mind wasn’t completely on what he was doing. Not at all.

“Waiter? Can I have another glass of wine? And my wife is still waiting for her appetizer!”

“Certainly, sir,” said Justin. “I’ll bring them right out.”

It was chaotic on the floor. And things were crazy in the kitchen. Everything was backed up and the customers were impatient for their food. Justin had only been working 45 minutes and he was already in the weeds.

He saw the hostess seat a couple in his section. A young man in a blue suit and a heavily made-up blonde woman, obviously on a date.

Shit, Justin thought. I know that guy. I went to St. James with him. 

He’d been a big jock. Star of the football team. Justin had even had a little crush on him, but he never acted on it, of course. After all, he wanted to survive until graduation!

Maybe he won’t recognize me, Justin thought. Why would he remember me? We were in a couple of classes together, but it wasn’t like we hung out with the same people. He was a popular jock and I was a sad closet case in the fucking Art Club!

“Good evening,” said Justin, mustering up a smile. “I’m Justin. I’ll be your waiter this evening. Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu? Specials are on the first page.”

“I want a glass of wine,” the young woman said to her date. “Something sweet and not too dry. I hate anything too dry!”

The guy frowned as he perused the menu. “You got something like that?”

“The house white is very good. It’s a California chardonnay,” Justin suggested. If it isn’t sweet enough, you can always put some sugar in it, he snarked to himself.

“Yeah, that’ll be okay. And bring me a beer. Old Pitt, if you got it on tap.”

“Of course, sir.” Justin wrote down the drink orders. The two diners squinted at their menus like they had never before been to a restaurant that didn’t put your food into styrofoam containers. It was going to be a long night at this table, Justin thought.

“Justin!”

Clarence was hissing at him again from the bus station next to the kitchen door.

“Yes, Mr. Ramsey?” 

Clarence glared at him. “One of the women at Table 9 just sent her steak back. She said it was rare when she ordered it medium rare.”

Justin felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Now Clarence was looking for ways to harass him.

“That’s not my fault, Mr. Ramsey,” Justin replied. “That’s the kitchen’s problem. I don’t make the food – I only serve it!”

“Your attitude stinks!” said Clarence. “You better shape up or you’ll find your ass out on the street!”

Justin wanted to lash out at Clarence. The man was a fucking bitch and a creep who never missed an opportunity to grope Justin when his hands were full. But he was also the boss. Justin counted to ten and took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ramsey. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t!”

Justin hustled to the bar to put in the drink order. Then he went to pick up a main course for Table 11. Then back to the kitchen to get a new steak – medium rare this time – for the woman at Table 9. Then the drinks for the couple at Table 8.

“I hope you enjoy the chardonnay,” said Justin as he set the glass in front of the blonde woman. Justin could see it was a bad dye job. She sipped the chardonnay and shrugged.

“Don’t I know you?” Her date looked Justin up and down as he reached for his glass of Old Pitt. “Weren’t you in my class at St. James? Taylor – right?”

“Right,” Justin answered tightly. “Justin Taylor.”

“What are you doing working here? I thought you went to some Ivy League school?”

“Dartmouth.” The last thing Justin wanted was to have this conversation with Chris Hobbs. He didn’t know what the guy had been doing since he graduated from St. James’ Academy. He knew that Chris had gotten a football scholarship somewhere out west, but Justin had no idea if his college football career had matched his high school success. Following college football hadn’t exactly been on Justin’s agenda.

“What happened? Flunk out?” Chris smirked at his date across the table.

“No,” said Justin, trying to keep his face blank. Trying to focus on the task at hand. That’s what Brian would tell him to do. Never let them get to you. And if they do get to you, never let them see that they have. “I graduated with Honors.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing here?” Chris made a face.

“Working.” Justin took out his pad. Breathe in and out. One. Two. Three. Four. “May I take your orders now?”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night well spent.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

The Night From Hell ended around 1:00 a.m., when Justin Taylor, Waiter Extraordinaire, dragged his once perky, but now whipped and exhausted ass out of the Watermark and into the Jeep.

He sat in the driver’s seat for about ten minutes, unable to move, unable to think.

At least twenty times during his shift he’d almost quit. Almost taken his pad and his tray and thrown them across the room – or at Clarence’s head – and walked out the door, never to return.

But he didn’t. Instead he gritted his teeth and stayed. Held his breath, held his tongue, held his peace – and stood his ground. Served all his tables. Shut out the sniping of Clarence. Even endured the grinning, nasty jeers of the homophobic Chris Hobbs, who seemed to get off on running Justin down in front of his brain-dead bimbo of a girlfriend. And then fucking Hobbs stiffed him out of a tip on an $85 tab. That was almost the last straw. Almost.

But then Justin thought about Brian. Brian in the hospital. Brian puking his guts out in the bathroom of the Boston guesthouse. Brian burning up with fever. Brian clutching at him in the dark, pleading with Justin not to leave him alone.

That is what’s important, Justin thought. Brian has taken care of me so many times. Now it’s my turn to take care of him. And that means doing my job. That means not being a fucking pussy because someone bitches at me. Because some jerk stiffs me for a tip. Or another sends back her fucking steak. That means sucking it all up and being a man. Because it’s not important in the long run. It’s a pain in the ass, but it won’t impact my life. I won’t let it.

But what would impact my life – our lives! – would be if I lost my job. Justin leaned his head against the steering wheel. I can’t cry. I can’t let it get to me. I have to think about what really matters.

He needed to go home and get some sleep. It felt like days since he’d slept and he was bone-tired.

He started up the Jeep and drove.

But not in the direction of the loft. 

Towards Allegheny General.

 

***

“I didn’t think I’d see you here again tonight,” said Ray when he came in shortly after he began his shift to check Brian’s IV .

“Lucky you,” said Brian. He had tried to sleep, but it was impossible. He felt too lousy and had too much on his mind. And his roommate’s coughing and restless movements were driving him up a fucking wall!

“Let’s check your temperature.” Ray gently put the probe into Brian’s ear and then looked at the reading. “Normal. That’s what we want to see.”

“Why do you think it spiked last night?” Brian asked. He knew that was the main reason they kept him another day – his fucking temperature taking a sudden hike upward.

“Don’t know,” Ray conceded. “But they’re always afraid of an infection getting into you, especially when you’re on an IV. You get a staph infection and chances are it’s going to be worse than what you came in with.”

“Fabulous,” Brian huffed. “That’s just what I need.”

“They do more tests today?”

“Yeah,” said Brian. “But they never tell you anything. They must teach everyone in the medical profession the art of the stony expression. Never let the patient know shit! That’s their motto. I found that out at Johns Hopkins.”

“Johns Hopkins, huh?” Ray looked impressed. “That’s a first rate hospital.”

“I know. That’s why I went there for my cancer surgery.” Brian watched Ray’s face. But he didn’t show any surprise. Either he had read through Brian’s complete medical record or else his mastery of the stone face was equal to the best of them.

“I think you’ll do fine,” Ray said carefully. “You can go home soon and enjoy the Holidays.”

“Now I’ve got you!” Brian sniffed. “I never enjoy the Holidays. In fact, I hate the fucking Holidays! Whenever possible I lock my door and hide until sometime in the New Year!”

Ray smiled. “Now you’re kidding me, aren’t you?”

But Brian only shook his head.

After Ray left the room Brian settled back on the pillow and finally drifted off. 

He began to dream that it was summer. He and Justin were on a boat somewhere. Brian was driving while Justin sat close to him, wearing a tiny blue Speedo, his hair bleached almost white by the sun. The boat was knifing through the water, splitting the waves. Water sprayed up on either side and Justin grinned in delight. Brian put his arm around Justin and pulled him closer. His body was warm and he smelled like sweat and green tea shampoo. And something else. Something heavier. More acidic. Tomato sauce?

Brian opened his eyes. For a moment he thought he was back in the loft and Justin was lying next to him after his shift at the Watermark had ended.

Then Justin sighed and moved closer to Brian in the narrow hospital bed.

“Justin,” he whispered. “What the fuck?”

“Shhh!” Justin whispered back. “You don’t want to wake up your roommate. Or have all the nurses come running in here.”

“Fuck my roommate!” Brian breathed. “How the hell did you get in here?”

“I didn’t feel like going home after I left work,” Justin explained. “So I drove over here. I sat down in the lobby for a little while. I thought maybe I’d just sleep there for the rest of the night. But I saw people going up in the elevators. Going to the ICU, I guess.” Unlike the other floors, the Intensive Care Unit was open to relatives at all hours. “So I took the elevator to the ICU floor and walked down one flight to this one. I waited until I didn’t see anyone, then I sneaked down the hall and slipped into your room. Lucky for me you’re at the end of the hallway, far from the nurses’ station.”

“You’re going to get both of us kicked the fuck out of here!” Brian said.

“Isn’t that what you want?” Justin reminded him. “To get the fuck out of here and go home?”

“Good point, twat,” Brian admitted. “And I can’t think of a better way to get booted out.”

Brian held Justin against him. He DID smell like sweat and tomato sauce. I’d like to lick him all over right now. Lick him and suck him and fuck him right here in this crummy bed. Except...

What IS wrong with me? Brian asked himself. Why am I so happy that he’s here? What the fuck is happening? I’m turning into a goddamn lesbian!

“I missed you,” Justin said in a low voice.

Brian swallowed. Fuck it. “I missed you, too.”

“I couldn’t sleep in the loft alone,” Justin continued. “All I could think about was that you were here and that you were sick! I kept picturing horrible things happening to you. Thinking that... that you had cancer again. I was scared shitless, Brian! I’m still scared shitless!”

“I don’t have cancer again,” Brian reassured him. “I got a virus somewhere and it fucked up my stomach. That’s what they did all those tests for – to see if I have an ulcer. Or hepatitis.”

Justin started. “Hepatitis? Shit, Brian! That’s serious!”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already had it. About ten years ago,” Brian informed him. “So I’m pretty much immune. I know what hepatitis feels like – and it was a lot worse than this!”

“Worse?” Justin cringed, thinking of Brian puking up his guts.

“Much worse. Believe me.” 

Brian shuddered as he remembered his bout with the strain of hepatitis that had worked its way through Liberty Avenue a decade before. The fatigue that put him flat on his back for almost two weeks and unable to function for much longer. The muscles that ached until he thought he’d scream. The pounding headache that wouldn’t quit. His piss turning brown. And – most frightening of all – the jaundice. He’d almost freaked out when he saw the yellowish cast to his skin and eyes. This is the end, he thought as he lay in bed, barely able to lift his head. I’m only 24 and my liver is fucked forever! 

It had taken Brian months to recover fully. But getting sick also brought home to him that it could easily have been even more disastrous. There was a much nastier virus out there, but he’d managed to dodge The Big One. His sex life didn’t slow down after that, but he definitely was a lot more careful. That’s why he never stopped reminding Justin that he should be careful, too. To be safe. Always.

Brian kissed Justin on the top of his head. His hair felt like silk against his dry lips.

“I want you to come home,” said Justin, shutting his eyes. 

“So do I,” said Brian. He pulled the thin hospital blanket up around them. “More than anything. But for now, let’s see if both of us can get some sleep.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hospital stay.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

“Hey.”

Justin felt himself being nudged.

“Get up.”

He opened up his eyes and saw a strange dark face leaning close.

“Wha...?” Justin gaped. “What’s going on?”

“It’s almost time for me to go off my shift,” Ray whispered. “Get yourself up and I’ll make sure no one sees you. But you had better move your ass! And I mean now!”

Justin felt Brian shift next to him. “It’s okay. Ray’s my buddy.”

“Yeah, until I get fired for letting your friend stay in here all night.” Ray glanced around. “I’ll be back in a minute. But you better be ready when I do. You hear, son?”

Justin nodded. “I hear.” 

Ray nodded back and left the room.

Justin slipped out of the narrow bed and searched for his shoes on the floor. 

“Thanks for stopping by,” Brian smirked. “Come again soon!” 

“Shut up!” Justin sat on the edge of the bed and put on his shoes. “You’re coming home today.”

“Why, Doctor Taylor, I didn’t know you’d been assigned to my case.” Brian raised an eyebrow.

“See? I know you’re feeling better,” said Justin. “Because you’re being a dick.”

Brian made a little bow. “Glad to uphold my sterling reputation as a smart-ass.”

He watched as Justin straightened his rumpled clothing and ran his fingers through his tangled hair. “I’m a fucking mess!” Justin griped. “And I stink, too.”

“You do?” Brian said. “Come over here and let me smell you. And lick you, too!”

Justin snorted. “Now I’m positive that you’re feeling better!”

Ray poked his head in the door of the room. “Come on!”

“Bye, Brian.” Justin leaned over and kissed him. “I’ll be back later to bring you home.”

“I said move your ass!” Ray urged.

“Bye, bye, Sunshine,” Brian waved.

The dim hallway was empty and the elevator open. Ray pushed Justin inside and then stepped in next to him. “I’m making sure you go out that front door and don’t come sneaking back up the stairs!” The door closed the elevator went down.

“I won’t,” Justin promised. “I hope you don’t get into trouble.”

Ray shook his head. “You go home and get some rest, son. Even if they decide to release your boy, they won’t do it until almost noon. The doc has to see him and they got papers to sign and all that. You come back around 11:00 – but not before then.”

The door opened onto the lobby and Justin got out. “I appreciate this. You don’t know how much.”

“I take care of my patients,” Ray said simply. “And you – take a shower when you get home, son. You reek!”

Justin laughed. “Thanks for the advice, Ray.”

The elevator door closed.

Justin walked out of Allegheny General just as the sun was beginning to rise.

 

***

 

At exactly 11:00 a.m. on Monday morning, having gotten a few hours of sleep, showered, shaved, and wearing clean clothes, Justin strode into Brian’s hospital room.

Brian was standing next to the bed in the sweats he’d gone to the hospital in. He was no longer hooked up to the IV pole. And he was glowering as only Brian Kinney could glower.

“Did you bring me some clothes?” were the first words out of his mouth. “I can’t walk out of here in these filthy rags!”

“Good morning to you, too,” Justin smiled sweetly. That was the only way to react to Brian’s grouchiness. “And yes – I brought you something else to wear. And your razor, too.”

“Thank God!” Brian softened. “They won’t let you take a shower in this fucking place!”

Justin hoisted a leather Gucci carry-all onto the bed and dumped out the contents. “Your shaving kit. Brush and comb. Toothbrush and toothpaste. Deodorant. 501’s. Underwear. Socks. And a sweater.”

Brian grabbed the brown sweater out of Justin’s hands and checked the label. “Geoffrey Beane? You brought me a fucking Geoffrey Beane sweater? What did you do? Dig it up from the bottom of my closet?”

“I took it out of your dresser drawer, Brian,” Justin said calmly. “Next time I’ll bring a Prada suit for you to wear on the way home from the hospital.”

“There won’t be a next time!” Brian vowed. “I’m never coming to a hospital again as long as I fucking live!”

Brian gathered up the toiletries and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Justin heard water running and the unmistakable sounds of Brian’s morning routine.

The roommate seemed to be gone. Justin peered around the white curtain. The other bed was empty. He’d never even known the man’s name or why he was in the hospital. 

“Where’s Mr. Kinney?” A woman in a dark orange polyester suit bounced through the door. She set a folder and a ballpoint pen on the bedside table.

“He’s in the bathroom, cleaning up.”

“Well, he needs to sign these papers,” she chirped. “I guess I can leave them here and come back in a few minutes. Tell him to read them over carefully before he signs them.” And then she was gone.

Brian emerged from the bathroom looking much like his old self. He had taken off the sweat shirt and his chest was damp where he’d washed up. He’d also shaved and run a comb through his hair. In other words, he looked sexy and perfect. “When I get home I’m taking a shower for a fucking hour to wash the stink of this place off me!”

“A lady came by. She wants you to sign these papers.” Justin pointed to the folder.

Brian shrugged. Then he picked up the pen and signed.

“Aren’t you going to read them first?” Justin asked.

“What for? They won’t let me leave until I sign, so I signed.” Brian flipped the folder shut. Then he stripped off his rumpled sweatpants and tossed them on the bed. His body was pale and he looked thinner than usual, but otherwise unscathed from his ordeal. “Give me my jeans. Fuck the underwear.”

Justin grinned as he handed them over. “What if that lady or one of the nurses comes in and sees you standing here naked?”

He cocked his head. “I’ll make her day. Or his!”

Brian had just finished dressing when the woman in orange returned. “We need Dr. Banerjee’s approval before we can release you, Mr. Kinney.”

“He was here to see me this morning and said it was okay,” said Brian. “Can’t we just leave?”

“The doctor has to sign off on your papers. And give you your follow-up instructions. Sorry,” the woman said before she marched out.

“Fucking bureaucracy!” Brian huffed. “We should just take a hike. I’m sick of this place! And fucking sick of being sick!”

“I know you are. So am I.” Justin touched Brian’s arm. “Sit down and relax. We’re not in any hurry.”

“Don’t you have a class today?” Brian questioned.

“Thanksgiving Break,” Justin reminded him.

“Oh.” Brian sat back down on the bed. “I’m sorry, brat. I don’t mean to be such a fucking bitch, but I want to get out of this place.” He smiled slyly at Justin. “Were you really here last night? Or did I dream it?”

“Maybe you have very realistic dreams,” Justin smiled back.

“Not realistic enough,” Brian confessed. “Or they really would have thrown us out of here last night!”

They waited another 45 minutes before Dr. Banerjee finally came into the room. “All your tests came back negative, Brian. But I want you to see your primary physician in two weeks. You may not have an ulcer – yet! – but your blood pressure is elevated and you seem to be under very much stress. Your gastroenteritis may have been brought on by a virus, but it was exacerbated by too much drinking – and too much tension, as well.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know!” Brian replied in a subdued voice.

“You need to reduce the level of stress in your life. Relieve your anxiety. Otherwise, you truly are at risk for a ulcer or some other stress-related illness.” Dr. Banerjee signed the release papers and handed the folder back to Brian. “Do you have any hobbies?”

“Excuse me?” Brian blinked, not certain he heard right. “Did you say hobbies?”

“Yes,” said the doctor. “A hobby. Something that relaxes you.”

“You mean like... bird-watching? Or collecting stamps?” Brian looked at Justin, who was stifling a laugh. “Or bowling?”

“If you like,” said Dr. Banerjee. “Something to occupy your time and reduce your high level of stress. Something you enjoy doing.”

“I already have a hobby like that,” said Brian. “In fact, he’s sitting right here in this room!”

The doctor glanced at Justin and then back at his patient. “Yes, healthy sexual activity is important, Brian. But perhaps you need something a bit more – er – cerebral. Something to alleviate your anxiety when your partner is not available.”

Yeah, right, Brian thought, rolling his eyes. Maybe I’ll take up knitting. Or origami. “Whatever the fuck you say, Doc.”

“Thank you, Dr. Banerjee,” Justin interjected. “We’ll think of something for him to do.”

The resident shook both their hands. “Good luck, Brian. And follow that diet I gave you for the next few weeks. Remember: no spicy foods, no alcohol, and no smoking!”

“Of course, Doc,” Brian nodded. He could hardly wait to get into Jeep and light up his first cigarette in days. And have a good stiff belt when he got home. A double.

“I’ll make sure he follows it,” Justin said firmly. “No exceptions!”

“Good,” said Dr. Banerjee. Then he went to call the attendant to bring the wheelchair that would take Brian downstairs.

“Traitor,” Brian muttered under his breath.

But Justin was unrattled. “That’s what I’m here for, Brian. To keep you in line!”

“I knew having you move in with me was a fucking mistake!” Brian moaned.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Justin declared. He put his hand out and touched his lover’s arm. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” Brian said.

And he really did know. That was the wonder of it.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debbie barges in.

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

One thing Brian recalled vividly from the time when he was recovering from cancer was the exhaustion of doing nothing. Getting up to take a piss or to limp to the kitchen for a bottle of water was a major chore, while mustering up the strength to get into the office felt like an undertaking equal to a trek through the Amazon.

So when Justin suggested that he get into bed and rest he didn’t fight it.

Yes, he made a few snarky comments about being ordered around by bossy twinks. And he loudly proclaimed that he felt great. Good enough, in fact, to head over to Woody’s to shoot some pool or to hit the afternoon tea dance at Babylon. But when Justin folded back the duvet and coaxed him into it, he acquiesced. He also acquiesced to a lovingly rendered blowjob – a Justin specialty – that lulled him into the first real feeling of well-being he’d experienced since the night before the wedding.

Brian closed his eyes and relaxed, a contented smile on his face. He was in his own loft, his own bed, with his own...

Well, with whatever Justin was.

“Brian, I’m going to go to the store.”

Justin was up and putting his clothes back on.

Brian sat up. “The store?”

Justin retrieved a small pad from Brian’s desk to make a shopping list. “We’re out of almost everything. Besides being completely out of toilet paper, I need to get more of your juice, milk for me, peanut butter, bread – you name it. And I want to get some of the food on this diet Dr. Banerjee gave me.” He unfolded a sheet of paper. “You’re supposed to have bland, low-residue food for the next two weeks or until your primary care physician says that your digestive tract is back to normal. Potatoes, bananas, cream of wheat...”

Brian recoiled. “Fuck cream of wheat!”

“Cream of wheat,” Justin repeated, and continued to read. “Poached chicken or turkey breast, low fat margarine, unflavored yogurt, cottage cheese, plain macaroni or pasta, with margarine but no sauce, white bread...”

“Excuse me?” Brian interrupted. “Am I allowed to have anything that isn’t white?”

Justin frowned, his eyes scanning down at the list of permitted foods. “Vegetable broth. That’s not white. It’s kind of... brownish red. I think.”

Brian made a face. “Fabulous. What about ice cream?” He and Justin had had some fun with a carton of Ben & Jerry’s a few times in the past.

“As long as it doesn’t have any fruit in it.” Justin brightened as he read the list. “You can have vanilla pudding! The diner makes that!”

“Vanilla pudding? Jesus,” Brian sputtered. “Now I’m eating like fucking Theodore!”

“And eggs, too,” said Justin. He made a note on the shopping list. “I can make you an omelet! And tofu, as long as it isn’t spicy.”

“You mean as long as it doesn’t have any fucking taste at all!”

“But you also can’t have anything acidic. So no salad dressing, tomato sauce, salsa, mustard, et cetera. Or anything with too much roughage. No fruit, nuts, popcorn or other corn products, beans, whole wheat or whole grain breads...”

“That’s my entire fucking diet!” Brian cried. “How can I live on white bread and yogurt?”

“It’s only for two weeks.” Justin folded the diet and the shopping list and shoved them into his pocket. “I think you can survive that long. And look at it this way, Brian – turkey is on the list, so you can enjoy Thanksgiving!”

Brian stared at Justin. “‘Enjoy’ and ‘Thanksgiving’ don’t belong in the same sentence.”

“We’ll see about that.” Justin put on his jacket and wrapped his scarf around his head. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

Brian sniffed. “Just in time for us to go to the tea dance at Babylon!”

Justin shook his head. “Just in time for me to make you something to eat before I have to go and work my shift at the Watermark.”

“Shit,” said Brian. “I forgot that you have to work.”

“Yeah,” Justin replied. “And if I call in sick I’m out of a job for sure. Clarence is just waiting for an excuse to fire me.”

“That fucking son of a bitch,” Brian muttered. “You won’t have to work there much longer. When I get my settlement from Vance you can quit and focus on doing your art.”

“I’m not quitting my job – no matter what,” Justin replied. “I want to pay my share.”

“We’ll discuss this – later,” said Brian.

Justin went to the store and Brian rested in bed. Or tried to rest. He flipped through a magazine. Then he turned on the radio. Then he turned it off. Then he began going through his CD’s, looking for something decent to listen to.

That’s when the buzzer began sounding.

“I’m coming,” said Brian. It’s either Michael, Lindsay, or Deb, he thought. I’m surprised all three of them weren’t waiting at the door when we got back from the hospital.

It was Debbie.

“I knew it,” said Brian.

“Knew what?” Deb bustled into the room. She was wearing a bright purple car coat and carrying a casserole dish. “Hiya, honey. How are you feeling?”

“Dandy,” said Brian. “Just dandy.”

“That’s good,” said Deb. “Because you look like hell!”

“Just what I need to hear to make my day.” Brian followed her into the kitchen. “What carb-ladened substance are you going to foist off on me today?”

“Ta dah!” she exclaimed, taking off the aluminum foil cover. “Lasagna!”

Hm, thought Brian. That actually sounds pretty good. Except Dr. Justin won’t let me have any!

“Where’s Sunshine?” she asked, replacing the cover and putting the dish in the fridge.

“At the store. Buying toilet paper. And lube. Lots and lots of lube.”

“You’re supposed to be taking it easy!” Deb warned.

“Why do you think we need all that lube?” said Brian. “To take it easy!”

“Brian Kinney – the king of the one-track mind!” Debbie snorted. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “You mean in bed waiting for Justin to get back with the lube?”

“Resting!” Debbie chastened. “Get back in that bed! I’ll make some herbal tea.”

Brian rolled his eyes. But he also got back into bed.

“Here you go, honey. Nice and hot with plenty of sugar!” Debbie placed a mug of mint tea in his hands. “It’s freezing cold in this place. It’s too drafty! You and Sunshine should move into a nice house in a nice neighborhood. Get something like Michael and Ben have.”

Brian almost choked on his tea. “In Stepford Terrace? Surrounded by dickless fags and breeders? You’ve got to be fucking kidding!”

“Why not?” said Deb. “It’s time you settled down, Brian. You’re not a kid anymore.”

“Thanks for the news flash.”

“I mean it.” Deb sat on the edge of the bed. “I know it’s hard for you to let go of this image of yourself as the Stud of Liberty Avenue. And that’s great while you’re young and have no responsibilities. But when you’re 35...”

“34!” Brian barked.

“All right, 34,” Debbie corrected herself. “You’re a grown man. You have a son and you have a partner.”

“He’s not my partner!” Brian huffed.

“Oh, yeah?” Debbie looked at him quizzically. “Coulda fooled me! You two share your home, your money, your lives. When it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck I guess I just assumed that it’s a fucking duck!”

“Justin’s ass DOES look a little like a duck’s tail. Quack, quack!” Brian snarked.

“Make all the jokes you want,” said Debbie. “But maybe all the shit that’s been happening lately is a wake-up call for you to get your act together. To set your priorities straight.”

Brian bit his bottom lip. “I never set anything straight!”

Debbie sighed and stood up. “You know what I’m talking about. You have some unfinished business in your life, Brian. Like with your mother.”

“Leave my fucking mother out of this!” Brian’s voice was sharp.

“Okay, I will.” Debbie buttoned up her coat. “I know you’re going through a rotten patch in your life right now. I know what that’s like. I went though it when Vic died. I had to rethink everything. But it was good for me to be forced to do it. It made me realize what a fucking rut I was in. And it made me realize what was important in my life. I probably wouldn’t be with Carl today if I hadn’t snapped out of all my negative thinking.”

“Maybe you should write a self-help book,” Brian retorted. “‘Debbie’s Guide to Life for Fags and the Hags Who Love them’?”

Debbie shrugged. “Maybe I should. And maybe you should read it.” She leaned down and kissed Brian on the top of his head. “All I’m saying is don’t fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Don’t push him away because you’re scared. Or because you don’t want to let go of some bullshit philosophy that’s only going to make you miserable in the end. Tell Justin how you feel. Because he needs to hear it. And you need to say it.”

Brian looked away. He didn’t want her to see his eyes. “Thanks for the tea. And the lasagna.”

Debbie smiled. “My pleasure.”

“Hey!” Justin called as he walked into the loft carrying the groceries.

“Sunshine!” Debbie exclaimed. “I was just leaving. I brought you boys some food. And I made some tea for Crabby Appleton up here.”

“Thanks, Deb,” Justin grinned as he stepped up into the bedroom. “Has he been behaving himself?”

“Yup,” Debbie replied, looking at Brian fondly. “I think he has.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving -- First stop.

Pittsburgh, Thanksgiving 2005

 

“Are you ready for this?” Brian asked.

“No.” Justin stepped out of the Jeep. The house was bright and suspiciously inviting. He knew everyone was there and he felt like bolting. “But it’s time.”

“Right,” Brian agreed. “It’s time.”

Jennifer opened the kitchen door just as Brian and Justin walked up to it. “I saw you drive up,” she said. “Sweetheart, what are you thinking?”

Justin steadied himself. “I’m thinking that I want to see Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt June. I want to say hello to my sister. And I want them all to meet Brian. It’s Thanksgiving and that’s the time to see your family. To give thanks for what you have and share it with the people you love. And that’s what I want to do.”

Justin held tightly to Brian’s hand and pushed by Jennifer, into the warm kitchen. 

His grandmother was sitting at the table, snipping the ends off green beans, a large glass of scotch next to her. “Justin!” she cried. “I was wondering when you were going to show up!”

“Hi, Grandma.” Justin bent down to hug her. “This is my friend, Brian.”

“Hello, Brian.” The woman smiled at both of them. She looked like a sad and faded version of Jennifer, but Brian could see that she had once been a beautiful woman. 

“Hello, Mrs. Owen.” Brian shook her hand. “Justin’s told me a lot about you.” Yeah, like the fact that you’ve been an alcoholic for the last 30 years. Well, I can relate to that. Most of my family are alcoholics, too, but you don’t seem the type who is going to freak out during dinner and throw the fucking turkey through the dining room window!

“Are you a friend of Justin’s from school? Are you the boy who just got married?” The woman frowned, as if searching for the right information in her alcohol-muddled brain.

“No, Mother,” Jennifer interjected. “That’s Dennis. He was Justin’s roommate at Dartmouth. He’s in Boston. This is... Brian Kinney. He and Justin... share an apartment.”

“Oh! How nice!” said Grandma Owen.

“Is Justin here? I thought I heard his voice.” Jennifer’s sister, June, came into the room. She was a few years younger than Jen, tall and brittle-looking, her dark blonde hair tied back with a velvet ribbon. “Darling!” She put her arms around Justin and hugged him. Then her eyes went to the man beside him. “And this must be the famous Brian!”

“It must be,” Brian acknowledged.

“Yeah, he’s pretty famous,” Justin nodded. “In certain circles.”

“Or infamous.” Brian’s eyes met June’s. So, she knows all, even if the old lady is clueless.

“I’m pleased to finally meet you, Brian,” June said firmly. “And I mean that.”

“Where’s Grandpa?” Justin asked. 

“He and your father are in the den. Watching football,” said Jennifer. Her hands were clenched, as if she needed to hang onto something, but there was nothing there.

“I’m going to introduce Brian to Grandpa.” Justin’s face was set.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Jennifer.

“Why not?” Grandma Owen asked. 

“Yes, Jen,” June added. “Why not?”

“Nothing, Mother.” Jennifer patted the old woman. “You finish getting those green beans ready, okay? I need to talk to Justin – privately.”

“No, Mom.” Justin took Brian’s hand. “We’re not staying for dinner, so you don’t have to worry. But I want Grandpa to meet Brian. I want him to understand. And then we’ll leave.”

“Leave?” Grandma Owen looked up at Justin. “You aren’t staying for dinner?”

“No, Grandma.” Justin leaned down and kissed her papery cheek. He could smell the perfume she had worn for as long as he could remember. Red Door by Elizabeth Arden. It had a sweet, but sharply metallic scent. “We can’t stay. Dad won’t let Brian into the house, let alone have him eat dinner with us.”

“Why not?” She looked at her grandson, then at her two daughters, mystified. “Is there something going on here you’re not telling me?”

Jennifer turned away, biting her tongue, while June nodded at Justin.

“Brian is my boyfriend, Grandma,” Justin stated. “That’s why Dad doesn’t want him here.”

“Boyfriend?” The old woman’s mouth gaped open. “What do you mean?”

“Justin is gay, Mother,” said June, hoping the information would finally penetrate the fog. “He and Brian live together. And Craig is being a jerk about it. That’s the story in a nutshell. Have I missed anything, Jen?”

“No,” Jennifer sighed. “That’s it. You haven’t missed anything.”

“Then I think Justin should go and do what he came here to do,” said June. “Although I wish you two would reconsider staying for dinner.”

“I wish we could,” said Justin. “But it’s not possible. Not with the way Dad feels.”

“Gay?” said Grandma Owen. “Justin?”

“Yes, Grandma,” Justin confirmed. “I’m gay. And Brian is gay, too. We’re both gay. And we’re gay together.”

“Very gay together,” Brian said, stifling a laugh. Justin poked him in the ribs.

“Oh, dear!” said the old woman. Then, with trembling fingers, she reached for her scotch and took a long sip. And then another.

“I could use some of that,” Brian whispered.

“Later,” said Justin. “And I’ll have one, too.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving kerfuffle.

Pittsburgh, Thanksgiving 2005

 

Molly heard someone come into the den.

She was lying on the floor, her chin propped on a throw pillow, and she was bored. In the kitchen Mom, Aunt June, and Grandma were cooking and talking about people she had never heard of. People from a long time ago. She wasn’t interested in cooking and she wasn’t interested in people she didn’t know and would probably never meet. Oh, and people who were dead, too. People who had been dead forever. No way was she going to listen to that!

But in the den it was also boring. Daddy and Grandpa sat and stared at the football game on the big screen TV and never said a word to each other. They’d had a big screen TV before, but this was a new one. The latest model. Daddy always got the latest model. That was the best thing about him owning an electronics store – all the stuff. Computers and cameras and televisions and CD and DVD and MP3 players and all kinds of good stuff.

But sometimes Molly got tired of stuff, even good stuff. Like when she sat in her room after dinner and tried to do her homework while she listened to her parents arguing downstairs. Like when she missed her brother, Justin. Which was almost every day. But especially when her parents were arguing. Which was also almost every day.

Molly looked up.

“Justin!” she cried. It was as if he knew she was wishing for him and so he decided to appear! She jumped up and ran to her brother .

“Hey, Mollusk,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “How’re you doing?”

“Okay,” she breathed. She’d been hoping for weeks that Justin would come for Thanksgiving, even though her mother had told her it probably wouldn’t happen, especially after he didn’t come to her birthday party. But it did happen! He was here!

“How dare you come in here!” Craig’s voice was low, but dark. He was suddenly standing there, so close that Molly could almost feel the fury radiating from his body. And it frightened her.

“I came to see Grandma and Grandpa,” said Justin. He rubbed Molly’s shoulders as she clung to him. “And Aunt June and Molly, too. It’s Thanksgiving, Dad. That’s why I’m here.”

“I know what it is!” Craig said through gritted teeth. He was speaking to Justin, but his eyes were on the figure standing directly behind his son. Brian Kinney.

“What’s going on?” Grandpa Owen demanded. “Justin – where have you been? Your Grandmother was asking for you last night.”

“I’m sorry, Grandpa,” Justin replied. “I know Dad doesn’t want us here, but we came to see you anyway. And I... I want you to meet Brian.”

“Justin, stop!” Craig ordered. “Get out! Both of you!”

“No!” Molly wailed. “You just got here!”

“Molly, go to your room!” Craig grabbed his daughter’s arm and jerked her backwards. 

Molly yelped and pulled away, clutching her arm where her father’s fingers had dug in. “That hurt!” she cried, and ran from the room.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Grandpa said to his son-in-law as he got out of his chair. One minute they were watching the game and the next minute everyone was acting crazy!

“Stay out of it!” Craig hissed. Then he focused on his son and the twisted monster who had corrupted him. “If the two of you don’t leave immediately, I’m calling the police!”

Grandpa Owen stared, thunderstruck. “The police? What’s gotten into you, Craig!”

“It’s not me. It’s this... this person!” Craig spat. “This child molester! And what he’s done to my son. Or, rather, the boy who used to be my son!”

“I’m not a boy.” Justin’s voice was cold. “And I wasn’t a child when I met Brian. I was 22 years old. And I’m about to turn 23. I’m a man, Dad, whether you believe that or not. A gay man. And that’s the truth. You can believe or not believe it. Accept me or not accept me. But that won’t change what I am. I’m your son. And I’m a queer.”

“What?” Grandpa Owen took a step forward. “Justin, what are you saying?”

“I’m gay, Grandpa,” Justin stated simply. He took Brian’s hand and squeezed it. “And this is Brian. He’s my boyfriend. My lover. We’ve been living together since I graduated from Dartmouth. That’s why I’m not working at Dad’s store. That’s why I wasn’t there with Mom and Dad and Molly at the airport to meet you when you came in from Chicago. It’s not because I didn’t want to be there, but because Dad’s shut me out.”

“You shut yourself out!” Craig countered. “You had a choice – be normal and be a part of this family, or stay with this... this sick pervert! Well, you made your choice, Justin. And I don’t want you here as long as you’ve living some disgusting lifestyle with a bunch of fags! I don’t want Molly exposed to that shit! And I had hoped that no one else in the family would find out about it, either. But you had to push it in our faces, didn’t you? You couldn’t resist flaunting yourself!”

Justin felt his throat tighten. He knew he was on the verge of tears. The anger and hatred on his father’s face and the shock and incomprehension on his grandfather’s was almost more than he could bear.

But Brian was behind him. Holding him up. He knew that Brian badly wanted to tell Craig off, but Justin had asked him not to. “This is something I have to do myself. All you need to do is be there. That’s what will keep me from freaking out completely.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, Dad,” said Justin in a choked voice. “Flaunting myself. Walking into what used to be my own home, saying hello to my mother and my aunt and my sister and my grandparents – and even you, Dad – that’s flaunting myself. Showing you all that I’m okay. No, that I’m better than okay! That I’m happy! That I’m with someone I love. And who loves me. I thought that’s what every parent wants? For their child to be happy. To find love.”

“You call that love?” Craig’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not love! Don’t you dare call what you and this... this man do together love! It’s filthy and it’s evil – and nothing will ever convince me otherwise! So don’t talk to me about love! If you really knew what love was, or if you really loved us – your family – you’d never soil yourself by letting this man touch you!”

“You’ll never understand, will you?” Justin whispered. “Because you don’t want to understand. You think what Brian and I do together is filthy? We make love, Dad! And it’s a beautiful thing!”

“I don’t have to listen to this!” Craig turned away.

“Justin, please say there’s some mistake,” Grandpa Owen pleaded. He looked at his grandson and then at the tall man standing with him. A man who was biting his lip to keep from screaming. His grandson’s lover. It couldn’t be true!

“Yeah, there’s a big mistake – and Justin made it!” Craig retorted.

“There’s no mistake, Grandpa.” Justin hesitated for a moment, then reached out and hugged his grandfather. “Please don’t hate me. And don’t hate Brian. Because I love him. And I still love you all.” He looked at Craig. “Even you, Dad. Even if I never see you again.”

“Get out!” Craig shouted. “Now!”

“We’re going.”

Brian and Justin came out of the den. Jennifer and June stood outside the door, their faces strained, while Grandma Owen and Molly huddled in the background, watching.

“Bye, Mom,” said Justin. “I hope your dinner isn’t ruined.”

“Justin...” Jennifer began. But she couldn’t continue. She looked away, the tears flowing down her cheeks.

“Goodbye, darling.” Aunt June stepped forward. She kissed Justin quickly. Then she touched Brian’s arm. “And you take good care of him, Brian.” Because he’s going to need you, she added silently. 

Brian nodded. After this scene he needed a fucking cigarette. And a good, strong belt of whiskey.

“I will,” he said.

And the two of them walked out the front door.

That’s one down, thought Brian. And it’s not over yet.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving Dinner at Deb's.

Pittsburgh, Thanksgiving 2005

 

“It’s about time you two showed up!” Debbie exclaimed as Brian and Justin pushed passed her and into the house.

“Excuse us,” said Brian. “We need to use your bathroom.” He towed Justin up the stairs and Deb heard the door slam behind them.

“Jesus!” she puffed. “Don’t those two get enough at home?”

“Leave ’em alone, Deb,” Carl laughed. “They’re young and having fun!” He wrapped his arms around his wife and gave her a playful squeeze. “Maybe we should sneak into the bathroom after they finish?”

“You’re a devil!” Debbie gave him a gentle slap. “I got stuff to take care of, so scat!”

Debbie hurried back to the kitchen while Carl headed downstairs to his new rec room. She still had a million things to do before dinner was ready to serve. Lindsay was just opening the oven to check on the temperature of the turkey, while Melanie was sitting at the table, mashing the potatoes.

“The boys are here – finally!” she announced.

“About time,” Melanie sniffed. She poured a little more milk into the bowl. “Gus has only asked when Daddy was going to get here about fifty times! Gus hasn’t seen Brian in almost two weeks and then he’s late again today! You’d think Brian might consider his son’s feelings once in a while instead of his own fucking needs!”

“Brian is trying, Mel,” Lindsay insisted. “He’s been over to see Gus a lot in the past few months. But he and Justin were out of town last week and then he was sick!”

Mel shrugged. “There’s always some excuse. I wish you wouldn’t constantly stick up for that asshole, Lindz.”

Lindsay set her mouth. They’d had this discussion too many times and she was tired of it. “I’m only explaining, Mel, not excusing.”

Deb checked the meat thermometer sticking out of the turkey’s breast. “Looks done to me,” she pronounced. “Take it out!”

Lindsay hoisted the turkey out of the oven and placed it on the counter. The rich aroma of the cooked bird filled the small house. “It looks beautiful, Deb!”

“It’s a nice big one, too! A 25-pounder! Carl got it free from the Policeman’s Benevolent Association,” Debbie boasted.

Gus wandered into the kitchen. He and the other guests – Michael, Ben, Baby J. R, Hunter, Emmett, and Ted – had been sitting downstairs watching Carl’s new big-screen television in the rec room he’d built in the basement. “Where’s Daddy? Uncle Carl says he came!”

Mel frowned. “I thought you said Brian and Justin were here, Deb.”

“Oh, um,” Debbie coughed. “He and Justin are upstairs. In the bathroom.” She patted Gus on the head. “They’ll be down in a minute, honey. Why don’t you go and see how Uncle Mikey and J.R. are doing? You can tell them it’s almost time for dinner.”

“Okay,” Gus nodded and went out.

“Up in the bathroom?” Melanie shook her head. “That fucking asshole!”

“Mel, we agreed that you wouldn’t say bad things about Brian in front of Gus!” Lindsay warned.

“I didn’t say it in front of him!” Melanie retorted. “Although it’s all I can do to hold my tongue sometimes! Really, Lindz! His son is waiting to see him and he’s upstairs getting his dick sucked by his blond boytoy!”

“That’s enough!” Debbie commanded. “Let’s get the food on the table. You two can argue about Brian on your own time.”

The guys came up from the rec room and sat down at Debbie’s crowded table. Mikey placed his daughter, J.R., in the high-chair and tied a Captain Astro bib around her neck while the girls brought out the food.

“Michael, will you go upstairs and tell Brian and Justin to get their asses out of that bathroom and get down here pronto?” said Deb. “It’s time to eat.”

“If we have to wait for them to finish, we’ll be here until Christmas Eve!” Ted snarked. 

“That’s for sure!” Emmett giggled.

But Michael’s face was somber. “I doubt they’re in there fucking, if that’s what you all think. They went over to the Taylor house this afternoon. Justin was going to come out to his grandparents while they’re in town. Considering the way Justin’s father feels about queers, it was probably a very nasty scene.”

“Cripes!” Deb put her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t anyone tell about me this?”

“Because you would have called up Jennifer Taylor and warned her that Justin and Brian were going over there, that’s why!” Michael returned.

“You’re darned tootin’ I would have warned her!” Debbie said.

“And that’s why I kept my big mouth shut!” Michael replied. Then he added in a softer voice, “For once.”

Ben touched his husband’s arm. “You did the right thing, Michael. This was Justin’s call. It must have been a difficult decision for him.”

“Yeah,” said Debbie. “Especially since his fucking boyfriend never came out to HIS parents! For all his big talk, Brian Kinney is a fucking coward and a pussy boy to boot!”

“Glad to know exactly what you think of me, Deb. This is quite the day for revelations.”

They all looked up to see Brian standing there. Justin, his eyes red and his face splotchy, was by his side, holding tightly to his hand.

“Daddy!” Gus cried in delight. He left his chair and sped to Brian’s side, attaching himself to his father’s leg.

“Hiya, Sonny Boy.” Brian lifted Gus and pressed his face against the child’s soft cheek. “You ready to eat a ton of turkey today?”

“Yeah! A ton a turkey!” he repeated. “And pie, too!”

“Of course. Plenty of pie. Good boy.” Brian set him down and pointed him towards Lindsay. “Why don’t you go and sit with your mommies?”

“Come and have something to eat,” Michael coaxed. “I know you’re on that special diet, Brian, but you can have the turkey and gravy. And some mashed potatoes. And Justin must be hungry, too.”

“I don’t feel like anything, thanks.” Justin’s voice was muted, like all the air had gone out of him. He looked up at Brian and a silent signal passed between them.

“I think we’d better go,” said Brian. “It wouldn’t do for Mrs. Pittsburgh PFLAG of 2005 to be seen breaking bread with – what was it? A fucking coward and a pussy boy.”

“You two sit down right now!” Debbie blared. “You’re part of this family and you’re going to eat with us – whether you like it or not!”

Brian hesitated. He searched Justin’s face. He was still distressed from the confrontation at his parents’ house and Brian didn’t want him to be put through any more fucking upsets today. Especially not from people who should be the most understanding.

But Justin shrugged almost Imperceivably and Brian nodded back at him.

“Okay,” said Brian. “Truce. If there’s room at the table, then I guess we can stay – for a little while.”

“Whatever, dude! I’m starving!” said Hunter. “Bring on the food!”

“Keep your shorts on!” Debbie replied. “It’s coming!”

“Daddy and Justin! Sit next to me!” Gus demanded. Lindsay and Mel reluctantly made a space for Brian and Justin to sit down, with Gus wedged happily between them.

Carl sliced the turkey and Debbie began handing around the large platter.

“See? This is where everyone belongs!” Debbie said with satisfaction. “One big happy family!”

“I wish Uncle Vic was here,” said Michael. “Things don’t seem the same without him.”

“Amen to that.” Debbie crossed herself. “I’m sure he’s watching from up above. And he knows we’re thinking about him.”

“And I’m sure he’s getting better food wherever he is than this dried up buzzard you call a turkey,” said Brian, chewing carefully. “My jaw hasn’t had a workout like this since the Great Suck-off of 1997.”

“Jesus, Brian!” Michael sighed, while Ted and Emmett convulsed with laughter.

“That’s the thanks I get for cooking this beautiful meal!” Debbie said. “Smart remarks from Mr. Brian Fucking Kinney!”

“The turkey is wonderful, Deb,” said Lindsay, kicking Brian under the table. “Brian is only joking. Look – he’s having a second helping!” She placed two more large slices of turkey on his plate. “And you’re going to eat it. All of it!”

Brian speared one of the slices with his fork and put it on Justin’s plate. “You need this more than I do, Sunshine. And Gus and I will work on this last piece – together.”

“Yeah! Together!” Gus crowed. Then he and his father dug into the turkey.

“That’s more like it!” Debbie sat back and grinned. Everyone was fed and no one was fighting. Dinner was a success.

Carl leaned over and kissed her. “Happy Thanksgiving,” he said.

“Same to you,” she replied. “And many, many more.”


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Thanksgiving stop.

Pittsburgh, Thanksgiving 2005

 

“Here’s some leftovers.”

Debbie shoved three plastic containers filled with turkey, dressing, and pumpkin pie into Justin’s hands.

“We’ve had enough food,” said Brian, putting on his leather jacket. “We don’t need to bring any home.”

“You’re taking these!” Debbie insisted. “Heat ’em up in the microwave and have them tomorrow for dinner.”

“Because they’ll be so much better the second day, right?” Brian rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, Deb,” said Justin, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “It was a great meal.”

“You’re welcome, Sunshine.” Debbie didn’t mention that Brian and Justin between them had eaten less than Gus. That’s one reason she’d piled on the leftovers – maybe they’d get hungry when they got home.

“You boys be careful,” Debbie warned. “It’s slippery out there.”

“Yes, Mom.” Brian opened the front door and let Justin go out to the Jeep. 

“Don’t be a smartass,” said Debbie. “You might be a grown man, Brian, but you’re still not too big or too old to listen to me.”

Brian snorted. “So when will I be too big and too old to have that privilege? I want to mark the date on my calendar.”

Debbie shook her head. Brian had been talking tough since he was 14 years old and she’d always ignored it. But maybe it was time for him to get over himself. “You have a son. You have a partner. You’re not a kid anymore, Brian, no matter how immature you act.”

Brian felt the wind beginning to whip up and a shiver went through him. “I’ll take that under consideration.”

“Oh, and speaking of calendars,” Debbie added. “Don’t forget to mark down Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, too. We’re opening presents here on Christmas Eve and I’m making pizza. Then Christmas dinner the next day.”

Brian winced. Debbie was always attempting to micro-manage every aspect of every holiday.

“That’s a month away,” said Brian. He took out his pack of American Spirits and lit a cigarette. “I might be busy.”

“Don’t give me any fucking grief, Brian!” Debbie said pointedly. “You aren’t going to spend Christmas the way you usually do – over in Babylon, getting your dick sucked in the backroom. You and Sunshine are coming here! And you know you aren’t supposed to be smoking! You’re still recovering!”

“First my mother, then my doctor,” Brian turned away and blew out a puff of smoke. “What would I do without you, Deb?”

“Be in big fucking trouble, that’s what!”

She watched as Brian squared his shoulders and strolled down the walkway to the curb. He still walked cocky and talked tough, but Debbie could see that he was scared. For only the second time since he was a kid, he didn’t feel like he was in control of his life. The first time had been when he got cancer. But at least then Debbie was sure of the reason for Brian’s fear. It was harder to understand now. Sure, he was out of a job and probably having some money troubles, but welcome to the fucking world, Brian Kinney! The main difficulty was that Brian liked to be in control. It was the only way he felt safe. But right now so many aspects of his life were out of his hands. That was the real reason.

“The boys take off?” Carl came up behind her as she peered out of the doorway.

“Yeah.” She watched as the Jeep pulled away. “But I’m worried about them. And especially about Brian.”

“They’ll be fine,” said Carl. “You worry too much.”

“I guess,” she said. And she closed the front door.

 

***

“I’m driving.”

Brian made Justin get out of the driver’s seat and into the passenger side. He revved the engine and the Jeep sped down the wet streets. It had snowed earlier in the evening, but then it turned to freezing rain, making the streets slick and dark with hidden ice.

“Where are we going?” Justin noticed that they were headed in the opposite direction from the way to the loft.

“Nowhere,” said Brian.

Nowhere. 

Justin knew that could only be one place.

The house was only a few blocks from Debbie’s, but the change in the neighborhood was striking. Everything was newer, larger, and more solidly middle class. Instead of being crowded together on a narrow street, the houses had yards, big garages, and new cars and SUV’s in the driveways. Compared to the exclusive area Justin had grown up in, it was still modest, but Justin could see for the first time the outward difference in the way Brian and Michael had lived as boys – Brian, the son of a union man with a well-paying job, and Michael, the child of a single mother barely making ends meet. And yet it had been Brian who had constantly sought to escape from this very house. And it was in Michael’s home that he found that refuge.

Brian pulled into the driveway. A late model Toyota was already parked there, but the place looked dark, as if there was no one home.

“Is anyone here?” Justin asked. “I can’t see any lights.”

“Oh, they’re here.” Brian sat and stared at the house. “My mother doesn’t like a lot of lights on.”

“Why not?” Justin frowned.

“Because then she might actually see what was going on,” Brian replied.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” Brian zipped up his leather jacket, as if steeling himself against the cold. “You can stay here. I’ll leave the engine running. I shouldn’t be in there very long.”

“No way! I’m going with you!”

“You don’t have to,” said Brian. “Really, you don’t.”

“But I do,” Justin insisted. He opened his door and jumped out, ending the discussion.

Brian sighed and turned off the engine. “Okay.”

He got out of the vehicle and walked around the front where Justin was waiting for him. Justin slipped his hand into Brian’s.

“Where are your fucking gloves?” Brian admonished. “Your hands are freezing!”

“I know,” said Justin. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go inside.”

“Yeah,” Brian agreed. “Before I lose my nerve.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kinney house.

Pittsburgh, Thanksgiving 2005

 

Claire glanced at her watch.

Another hour and she could go. She’d already sat with her mother since early this afternoon. Sat through a football game that neither of them was watching. Sat through her mother’s 4:00 trip to Mass. Sat through a tasteless, listless dinner. And sat through almost an entire fifth of scotch. By the time Joan was on her third drink, Claire had joined her. 

And that’s how I join a fine family tradition of drunks, she thought, one goddamn glass at a time. By the time I’m Mom’s age, I’ll be as pitiful as she is – if I’m not there already.

Claire knew her ex-husband was bringing the kids home at 10:00, so that gave her an excuse to leave. Otherwise she could see Joan guilting her into staying well into the night. That had happened before, mainly right after Daddy had died, and it was a nightmare! Spending too much time in that house was no picnic. Sometimes she thought that the only reason she’d married her worthless ex was to get out of the house. Well, that hadn’t worked out the way she’d planned. But then what did?

And Brian. He always got off easy. It wasn’t fair. He’d escaped. Gone to college. Lived his own life. Didn’t give a shit about her or Mom or Daddy. Oh, he handed out money every once in a while, but not much. Well, maybe he paid Mom’s bills. And he’d paid off the mortgage on her house and also Daddy’s gambling debts. But where was he when you really needed him? Where was he at Thanksgiving? Or Christmas? Or on the other 363 days of the year?

A bouquet of red and white roses sat on the coffee table.

Brian thought he could make everything better with a goddamn bunch of flowers! That was Brian’s answer to everything. Just like Daddy when he got drunk and smacked Mom around. As soon as he sobered up he’d send flowers. As if that made everything all right. As if that erased all the shit he’d caused.

Brian was just like Daddy.

With one big exception.

What would Mom say if she knew? Claire shook her head at the thought. What would Daddy have said? He’d probably have killed Brian. So maybe it was just as well that he hadn’t known. That neither of their parents ever knew that their precious son – their handsome, smart, rich, perfect Brian – was a fairy.

But Claire knew. She’s known since she was in high school. She’d heard whispers about her brother even when he was in middle school. Heard a nasty story about him and a young, good-looking gym teacher, who was inexplicably fired one day and never seen again. Then Brian started hanging out with Mikey Novotny, who everyone knew was a total little fag.

Luckily, she graduated when Brian was a freshman, so she didn’t have to endure everyone laughing behind her back because her brother was “that way.” She went on to Allegheny Community College, but she hated school and dropped out as soon as she met Pete McNaughton. But she still heard stories about her little brother. About how he’d alienated some jock and got suspended for a week after he broke the guy’s fingers by smashing them in a locker. About how he refused to cut his hair when he was playing soccer. Refused to follow any rules when they didn’t suit his purpose. The time he ran away and then came back and had to go to a drug rehab place. Then there was the punk band he and Mikey Novotny started. Brian dyed his hair black and painted his fingernails and looked like a goddamn freak! That should have given her parents a clue, but they’d been too dumb to understand what it really meant.

But each time Claire was sure Brian had fucked up his life completely, he’d come up smelling like a rose! He ended up getting a scholarship to Penn State. And some guy bankrolled him for his first two years there, giving him money to buy clothes and books and whatever he needed. Yeah, I’m sure the guy did it out of the goodness of his heart! But still her parents never figured it out.

It wasn’t fair! It just wasn’t fair.

Joan Kinney poured another splash of scotch into her glass, spilling half of it.

“Watch it, Mom.” Claire got up to wipe the spill.

That’s when the front door opened and both women looked up.

“Brian?” Claire was surprised. She’d called him about ten times, pleading with him to make an appearance for Thanksgiving, but she’d never in a million years believed that he would do it.

And... he wasn’t alone.

No. He wouldn’t. Would he?

“Hello, Mom.” Brian walked into the living room, a short and very young-looking blond guy at his heels. 

“Brian, I didn’t think you were coming.” Joan put her cheek up for her son to kiss.

“But, amazingly enough, here I am.” Brian brushed her forehead with his lips.

“Brian, can I speak with you?” Claire’s voice was icy. “In the kitchen? Now?”

“No thanks,” Brian brushed his sister off. “We already ate.”

“Oh,” said Joan, focusing on Justin for the first time. “You brought a friend.”

“Brian!” Claire pleaded. “I need to talk to you. Right now!”

“In a minute,” said Brian. “I want to introduce Justin to Mom. Mom – this is Justin.”

“Shit,” Claire whispered to herself. Brian would drop this bombshell and then stroll off, as usual, leaving her to deal with the nasty aftermath.

“Justin?” Joan took the boy’s offered hand and shook it limply. 

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Kinney.” Justin smiled ingratiatingly at his lover’s mother. “You have a lovely home.” He noted that the statues and pictures of Jesus, the Virgin Mary, and other saints outnumbered pictures of the family by about three-to-one.

“Why, thank you, dear.” Joan looked at the boy in confusion. Who was this person and why had Brian brought him here? “We waited for you for dinner, Brian, but you never came. Where did you go?”

“I told Claire that we had other plans for Thanksgiving,” Brian said. “Didn’t she tell you?”

“Yes, but I don’t see what could be more important than having Thanksgiving with your own family.” But something was beginning to dawn in Joan Kinney’s numbed mind. Something that couldn’t be true. “Did you say... we? What do you mean by... we?”

“We.” Brian looked his mother directly in the eyes. “Me and Justin. That’s what I came over here to tell you. Justin’s been living with me for the past five months. And he’s been my lover for almost a year.”

“But... but... that means that...” Joan gaped at her son and this... this person in horror. “That...”

“That I’m gay, Mom.” There, thought Brian. That was easy. Just like getting your liver extracted without anesthetic. “That’s it. That’s what I came here to say.”

“That can’t be true! I don’t believe it!” Joan turned to her daughter. “Did you know about this?”

Claire sighed. Now the shit would really hit the fan. “Yes, Mother. I knew. I’ve known for years.”

Joan was at a loss. “And you never told me? Never warned me?” She closed her eyes and prayed silently. Help me, Lord, to deal with this burden. And to help my son see Your plan for his salvation. “Thank the Lord that your father didn’t know!”

“He did,” Brian replied simply. Then he glanced at Justin, who nodded – and reached out to take his hand.

Now it was Claire’s turn to gape. “Daddy knew?”

“I told him before he died. Jack came to my loft to tell me that he had cancer. A few days later I drove over here. He was out in the garage, going through some boxes. That’s when I told him.” Brian paused, remembering the pain of that moment. “He told me that I should be the one dying, not him. But I didn’t die. Not even when I did get cancer. No, I didn’t die. But he did.”

“You didn’t die because the Lord spared you!” Joan exclaimed. “He spared you for a reason, Brian! He gave you a second chance to save yourself!” She glared at Justin. “If you avoid sin! If you repent and stay away from evil people like... like this!”

Justin shrank against Brian’s side. Joan Kinney’s vitriol was almost palpable – and it was directed at him. 

But Brian put his arm around his lover. Tightened his hold on him. Thankful that he was there. Thankful that, for once, he wasn’t alone.

“You think Justin is evil? Then I’m even more evil, Mom, since I was the one who introduced him to the Wonderful World of Fagdom. Yes, I took the virginity of this sweet, blond boy. I stuck my big dick up his ass and fucked him into Christmas – and I mean that literally!”

“And I loved it,” said Justin. “Thanks, Brian.” And he kissed him on the lips.

“Shame on you!” Joan stood up and shook her finger at the pair furiously. “Shame on both of you! God will not be mocked! You’ll find out!”

“I don’t need to find out anything, Mom,” said Brian. “I learned everything I need to know about what’s evil from living in this house for 18 years. Living and surviving. You know that song all the fags love? ‘I Will Survive’? Well, it’s fucking true. I did survive. And I’ll continue surviving, no matter what you think, no matter what you say.”

“Shame!” Joan repeated. But then her face crumpled and she sat back down in her chair. “Shame,” she whispered. And then she wept. 

“You guys better go,” said Claire. Yes, cleaning up the mess Brian always leaves behind. That’s my lot in life!

“Okay. It’s time,” Brian agreed. “Bye, Mom,” he added. “Sorry we missed dinner. But there’s always Christmas.”

“Brian! Please?” Claire went to the front door and opened it.

They went out and Claire shut the door behind them. Shut it and locked it.

But there are things you can’t shut out. Can’t lock out. They come into the house, no matter what the hell you do.

Claire poured her mother a glass of scotch and another for herself as well. The bottle was almost empty, but there were two more in the pantry. What was it Brian used to say about Daddy and his booze? 

Pain management. That was it.

A fine old family tradition. 

Why fight it?

So she didn’t.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at the loft.

Pittsburgh, Thanksgiving 2005

 

“Brian?”

“Huh?”

“What are you doing?”

Justin had turned over in bed and woke up when he felt an empty space next to him. He wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and went in search of Brian, finding him at the front window, smoking and staring out at the cold rain that was falling on Pittsburgh.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just thinking, I guess.”

“About what?”

Brian shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I said – nothing.” He took a long drag of his cigarette and then blew the smoke out slowly.

“Your mom?” Justin moved close to him. It was chilly in the loft, but by the window it was freezing, and Brian, as usual, was standing there naked.

“Maybe,” Brian admitted. “A little.”

“It’s shitty that she reacted the way she did.” Justin snaked his arm around Brian’s waist. His skin was cool to the touch and he shivered as Justin softly stroked his side.

Brian lifted the cigarette to his lips again. “And it’s shitty that your father was an asshole to you.”

Justin smiled. “We’re quite the dysfunctional pair, aren’t we?”

But Brian shook his head. “Not us. Them. You know that when my mother found out I had cancer she came to the office to see me.”

“Really?” Justin was surprised. He knew that when he got sick Brian didn’t tell many people about it until he finished treatment. “Why did you tell her?”

“I didn’t. Deb did. That was my first mistake. I thought Deb should know so she wouldn’t murder me when she found out later. But then she ran into Joanie at church, of all fucking places! And she told her. She fucking told her! And Joanie went straight to Vangard and cornered me in my office.”

“What did she say?” Justin tried to imagine how he would feel if he’d just found out that his lover had been diagnosed with cancer. Even thinking about it made his stomach churn. So what had Brian’s mother felt? Her child! Her only son! Justin knew how his own mother would totally lose it if he got cancer. But Joan Kinney wasn’t like Jennifer Taylor. That much was clear.

Brian made a choking sound that was partly a laugh and partly a sob. “She said that God had given me cancer to test me. That it was my last chance to turn my life around before I died. It was just like she said tonight. That I should accept God’s plan for me, which apparently included getting my diseased ball sucked out of my nutsack and replaced with a piece of plastic, then being burned to a crisp by a raygun every day for four weeks until I was so fucking sick and exhausted that I could barely drag myself out of bed to take a piss. God certainly is a joker, isn’t he, Sunshine?”

Justin leaned his head against Brian’s chest. He felt so solid. So vital. Like a fucking force of nature. Like nothing could defeat him, not ever. But Justin could also feel a slight tremble. As if there were a damaged, desperate child curled up inside that beautiful body. A lost child that had never been found. But Justin knew he was there. Knew he could find him. And save him.

“I’m sorry, Brian. So fucking sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. Shit happens. I’m still here. I survived my family and I survived cancer. And it could have been worse, believe me. A hell of a lot worse. When I...” Brian stopped. He seemed as if he was going to tell Justin something more. Something important about his past. But then he fell silent.

“I’m glad you were there with me,” said Justin. “Especially when Dad went ballistic. I was afraid for a moment, but then I remembered that you were right behind me. Then I stopped being scared.”

“You didn’t need me. You were fine all by yourself.”

“No, I wasn’t. You gave me the courage to do what I had to do.” Justin paused and took a deep breath. “And I’m glad I was with you at your mom’s. That you... you trusted me enough to let me be there. To let me see what it was like to... to live there. To grow up in that house.”

“You can never really know what it was like,” Brian said. “And I wouldn’t want you to. I would never want anyone to fucking know what that was like! To want to escape so badly every fucking day of your life. To never know what to expect, so you always expect the worst. To understand that if your parents ever found out what you really were or how you really felt, then you were as good as dead. No one should know what that’s like, but especially not a kid. And I don’t want you even trying to imagine it. One person with nightmares is enough around here.”

“I never have nightmares,” Justin informed him. “Only dreams. Beautiful dreams. About you.”

“About my cock, you mean!”

“That, too. But mainly about you. All of you. And about us.”

“Us.” Brian’s cigarette had burned down almost to the filter. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Justin swallowed. “Me. You. Together. Not afraid to show each other the things we hide from everyone else. Like today.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Brian said suddenly.

Justin was startled. What did Brian mean? Was he warning Justin? Or warning himself?

“Then don’t hurt me,” Justin replied. “And I won’t hurt you. If we’re honest with each other, what more do we need to do?”

“Listen – I know you want things that... that I can’t give you. Or won’t give you.”

“What things, Brian?”

Brian took Justin’s left hand and ran his index finger along his palm, brushing against the third finger. “Romantic shit. Stepford Terrace. Rings. Marching down the aisle of my mother’s church in matching Vera Wangs.”

“I don’t think your mother’s church would allow that even if I wanted it. Which I don’t.”

“But what about Denny? Didn’t you look at him and Carole doing the whole wedding farce and think – why the fuck not me? We were even in Massachusetts where dickless fags can do it legally. You must have thought about it.”

“Maybe I wondered what it would be like, but that’s only thinking, Brian. That’s not really wanting. Or doing. I’m only 22. We have plenty of time to do whatever we both decide to do. You told me once that we didn’t need locks on our doors to keep each other inside. And we don’t need rings on our fingers to prove that we love each other. That we’re here, together, because we want to be. At least, that’s why I’m here. And I’m guessing that’s why you’re here, too.”

Brian snorted. “I’m here because I put down a shitload of cash to pay off this fucking loft! And another shitload for stainless steel kitchen fixtures, Philippe Starck appliances, Italian Modo living room set, Barcelona chair, Mies van der Rohe coffee table, Bang and Olufsen sound system, track lighting...”

“Okay! Okay! I get it!” Justin laughed. “I know why you’re here. It’s because of all your stuff! But there must be a reason why I’m here with you. Besides the fact that I’m such good company.”

“I don’t know. Fish have a short shelf life. And you have to walk a dog. And cats – they think they fucking own you.”

“I know I don’t own you, Brian. And you don’t own me.”

“So we’re agreed.” Brian turned away from the window and stamped out the remnants of his cigarette in the ashtray sitting on the edge of drinks cart. “It’s late. And you have to work tomorrow.”

“I know. Double shift. Lunch and dinner. If Clarence doesn’t fire my ass.”

“Then you better get some sleep.”

Brian led Justin up to the bedroom and pushed him back on the bed. Then he unwrapped Justin from the blanket and lowered himself on top of him.

“What you’re doing isn’t putting me to sleep,” Justin pointed out.

“I’m relaxing you after a hard day dealing with relatives. It’s like family therapy.”

“Oh, therapy. I see.” Justin gasped as he felt Brian’s mouth on his cock. “Th...therapy is good! Really good!”

But Brian didn’t say a word. He was too busy.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian takes a stand.

Pittsburgh, The Day After, November 2005

 

“Thanks for the ride.”

Justin hopped out of the Corvette and checked his watch. The lunch shift was beginning in 10 minutes, so he had just enough time to change his clothes and get set up.

“No problem,” said Brian. “I’ll pick you up at 4:00.”

Justin walked around to the driver’s side as Brian rolled down the window. “Remember that I have to be back here for the dinner shift.”

“I know.” Brian wrinkled his nose in irritation. “Look, you don’t need to do these fucking double shifts. We have enough money. You’re wearing yourself out!”

Justin grinned. “The only thing worn out is my ass! Don’t be such a worrywort. I can handle the double shifts. After all, I’m young and strong and full of pep!”

“Oh, is that what you’re full of?” Brian raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was something else.”

“Shut up!” He gave Brian a quick kiss through the window. “Hey, that tasted good. Give me another one.” He kissed Brian again, longer and more lingeringly this time.

Brian smirked. “Won’t they feed you at that cheap hash house, Sunshine?”

“Not the way you feed me,” Justin whispered, reaching out for more.

But Brian pulled back reluctantly. “You better get in there before Clarence comes out and starts screaming at me for taking up space in his fucking parking lot.”

“Okay,” Justin nodded. “I’m working lunch tomorrow, but then I have the evening off so we can go to Michael’s birthday party. I’ve already wrapped his present.”

“Don’t remind me,” Brian grumped. “Parties at Stepford Terrace are always bad news. Didn’t we have to suffer through the full court press from Deb last night? Now tomorrow we’re going to be treated to a stomach-turning meal by Mikey and the Professor!”

“Mikey and the Professor – wasn’t that an old sitcom back in the 1970’s?” Justin asked facetiously.

“No, it’s a bad gay sitcom in 2005!” Brian replied. “I bet Zen Ben will dish up curry-encrusted brown rice and tofu casserole with green tea sauce. Yum! Get ready to party hearty!”

“None of the kind of stuff that Ben cooks is on your diet, Brian,” Justin pointed out.

Brian sighed. This fucking diet would be the death of him. “Thanks for stating the obvious, Dr. Taylor. I’ll end up having to bring my own food in a fucking plastic container like some fussy old hypochondriac queen! And no remarks about the fact that I already am a fussy old hypochondriac queen!”

“You said it, not me,” Justin returned. “I’ve got to hustle. Bye now! I love you!”

“Yeah,” said Brian. “Whatever. Move your ass!”

Brian waited until Justin was inside the Watermark before he pulled away. Now he was getting overly protective. It was fucking absurd. Pittsburgh wasn’t exactly a fag’s paradise, but it wasn’t dangerous. Well, not too dangerous if you were careful. He was a fucking pussy where the kid was concerned. Afraid to let him out of his sight. 

Stop it right now, Kinney! This obsessing has to end. You’re not his daddy, sugar or otherwise. Justin is a grown man. He can take care of himself. You know that. So let him.

Brian revved the Vette’s engine. It sounded rough. The car needed a tune-up, but he’d been putting it off. Well, let the new owner tune it up, whoever that might be. It was a fun ride, but sometimes you had to let the fun ride go. It was time to be practical. About time.

He drove the Vette downtown and pulled into the parking garage of a very familiar building. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. But it was necessary. Very necessary.

“Brian,” said Gardner Vance, ushering Brian to his private office and shutting the door behind them. His face wore a bland smile, but his voice was like ice. “To what do I owe this profound pleasure?”

Brian sat in the chair Vance offered and unzipped his leather jacket. “I know you don’t want to chitchat with me any more than I want to chitchat with you, so I’ll cut to the chase. I want to settle. I’m willing to take your last offer. Tell your lawyer to call my lawyer and I’ll sign the papers as soon as we can work out the details.”

Vance was truly surprised. He had been willing to bet that Brian would fight for his full share of the partnership until they nailed the lid on his coffin, yet here he was, throwing in the towel. 

“Well, Brian, I shall do that immediately. But may I be so bold as to inquire what brought about this staggering change of mind?”

Typical of Vance to want all the gory details, Brian thought. But Gardner has never been one to win graciously and leave it at that.

“I’ve been offered a job at Larch, Keller, and Conway Associates in San Francisco. It’s not a partnership, but it’s a decent position and the money is good. So I’ve decided to cut my losses here and take it.”

Vance frowned at his former partner. “Larch, Keller, and Conway? I’ve never heard of them.”

Brian gritted his teeth. “That’s because they’re not an advertising agency. They’re a public relations and consulting firm specializing in gay promotions. After three months of sending out feelers to every major ad agency in the country, I admit defeat. Congratulations! You’ve managed to make my name mud everywhere except in the gay community. So I’m not going to fight it anymore. Frankly, I’m tired of fighting. Tony Conway contacted me personally when he heard I was job-hunting. I worked with him on a big promotion Ryder did at the White Party in Miami six years ago. Conway thinks I got a raw deal from you – and I agree. He thinks I’ll do well in public relations – and, again, I agree. It should be right up my alley, so to speak. Working there will give me a chance to rebuild my reputation in a gay-friendly city, far away from Jim fucking Stockwell, his Stormtroopers, and all of his ‘Family Friendly’ bullshit. And it’s a chance for me to make a new start. So I’m going to take the offer. It’s as simple as that.”

“Well.” Gardner stood up and went to his bar. “Would you like a drink?” he asked, pouring himself a large Canadian Club.

Brian wanted one – badly. But his stomach gurgled. If he really developed a fucking ulcer, he’d send Vance the bill for his treatment! 

“No, thanks. It’s a little early for me.”

Vance was surprised again. “I thought it was never too early for you, Brian. Cheers!” Vance lifted his glass and took a long sip. 

He knew he should feel like celebrating, but the victory felt hollow. Yes, he’d driven his rival from the field in defeat, but he’d also lost his best ad man. Perhaps the best ad man in the East – except for himself, of course. And Vangard was suffering as a result. Brown, Eyeconic, Ramson, Open Fire – all of those had been Brian’s accounts. And all were unhappy with the way their campaigns were going without him in charge. Dandy Lube had been so unhappy that they’d already taken their business elsewhere. And Leo Brown had asked him only a few days before when Brian was returning. He was impatient with the way Ken Wilson and Phil Millard were handling his account. The problem with Wilson and Millard was that they were competent, but that was all. They didn’t have Brian’s vision. Or Brian’s balls. No one else at Vangard did. And the clients knew it.

“This may seen a strange thing to hear from me, Brian,” Vance said carefully. “But I wish you’d reconsider the first offer I put on the table.”

“And what offer was that?” Brian watched Gardner pace back and forth, the glass in his hand. He wasn’t usually a nervous man, but today he was like a caged cat.

“The one that would allow you to come back here.”

Brian closed his eyes. “No fucking way! After the way you’ve played me for the past few months? The way you left me hang up to dry because of fucking Mr. Sutton Diet and Fitness Centers? Smeared me all over the industry? And now you want me back? I like to get fucked, Gardner, but only on my own terms. And never without plenty of lube!”

“I made you my partner because I knew you were the best, Brian,” Gardner conceded. “And you’re still the best. You’ll be wasting your talent in public relations. Especially when I need you here!”

Brian couldn’t listen to this crap another second. He stood up. “You had me here! And you treated me like a flunky! Like just another fag! And in this town that means someone less than human. Maybe this job at Larch, Keller, and Conway isn’t the be-all and end-all of my career aspirations, but at least they aren’t raging homophobes! At least I’ll be in a city where I’m not a freak. And at least I’ll be working with people who’ll respect me. And at this point in my life, that means a lot. But you’ll never understand how much it means because you’re not a queer.”

Gardner Vance looked away as he downed the rest of his drink. “I’ll call my lawyers on Monday.”

“Thanks.” Brian stood and zipped up his jacket. That was that. Time to get the fuck out of here.

“So,” said Vance, unable to resist one last dig. “What about your little ‘domestic partner’? What is his name? Justin? Are you planning to take your blond boytoy, Justin, with you to the West Coast? Or are you going stag? Are the hoards of potential sex partners out in San Francisco too tempting to pass up? Why drag yourself down with a clinging little significant other when you can be free as a bird among the glittering flocks of the City by the Bay?”

Brian stared at Vance. He really was a fucking asshole! 

“Well?” Vance needled. He loved throwing Brian off-balance. It was the only time he was able to feel truly superior to him. Brian might be tall and handsome and desirable and talented, but Vance was still the boss, which was something Brian never would be if he had anything to say about it! “Or haven’t you made up your mind yet? I bet you haven’t even discussed this with him, have you? No, I can see by your face that you haven’t. He’ll probably wake up one morning and you’ll have disappeared. Poof! Just like magic! Poor little boytoy!” Vance laughed bitterly.

“You know what, Gardner?” said Brian, his voice low and ominous. 

“What?” Vance replied, smiling like a snake. 

“Fuck you!”

“Typical,” Vance huffed. 

“Oh,” Brian added. “And Happy Thanksgiving!” 

Then he turned and walked out.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Finale of "Thankful" --
> 
> Brian and Justin in bed. Where else?

Pittsburgh, November 2005

 

“Thank God Mikey doesn’t have a birthday for another year!” Brian pulled off his sweater and tossed it across the bedroom. “I don’t think I could take hearing him squee over another fucking comic book when he has five million of them in his fucking store!”

“He’s a fan, Brian,” said Justin as he undressed. “That’s what fans do.”

“Fuck fans.” Brian flopped down on the bed and yawned. “It’s pathetic.”

“I bet you wouldn’t say that if Patrick Swayze walked in that door,” Justin pointed out. “I bet you’d be reduced to a breathless, stuttering, awe-struck fanboy.”

“Think again, Sunshine,” Brian replied. “I’d shake his hand and say, ‘How do you do, Mr. Swayze? I have admired your work...’”

“And your pecs – and your ass – and your cock,” Justin added.

“‘... your WORK for many years now. I’m very pleased to meet you.’” Brian grinned. “Then I’d throw him on this bed and have his dick out of his pants before he had time to say ‘thank you’! But he’d definitely say ‘thank you’ after I finished with him!”

Justin burst into laughter. “You are so predictable, Brian! That’s what I love about you!”

Maybe not so predictable, Brian thought. Maybe I’m still capable of surprising him. And surprising myself, too.

“Watching Michael demolish that birthday cake was a little disconcerting,” said Justin, sitting at the edge of bed to take off his socks. “I thought he was going to stick his whole head in it!”

“If Hunter didn’t fucking beat him to it. And I thought you liked food. Compared to Michael and Hunter, you’re practically anorectic!”

“You know, I think Hunter might be jumping back over to our team,” Justin commented.

“What makes you say that?” asked Brian. “Michael told me the kid has pictures of bimbos with over-inflated breasts all over his bedroom wall.”

“Maybe by the way he was looking at you all evening.” Justin stretched out next to Brian on the bed. “You know – that ‘I want you to fuck me’ look.”

“It’s not unfamiliar to me,” Brian conceded.

Justin stared intently into his face. “Is that so?”

Brian smiled. “You never get enough. I like that in you.”

“And I like THIS in me.” He took Brian’s cock firmly in his hand. “I really wanted you to fuck me in Michael and Ben’s fancy powder room.” 

Brian sniffed. “Someone needs to fuck in that room – or fuck it up. All that pink fake fur and shiny wallpaper! I thought I’d landed in Barbie’s Dream House.”

“Emmett said Debbie picked out the wallpaper.” Justin began slowly stroking Brian.

“That figures!” Brian sighed. “What the fuck is it with Deb and hideous wallpaper?”

“I don’t know,” Justin shrugged. “I think she likes anything colorful.”

“Then she should put mirrors all over the house and look at herself,” said Brian. “I think her hair has gotten redder since she married Carl. I kind of thought she’d tone it down, but I was proven wrong once again.”

“You’re never wrong,” whispered Justin.

Brian’s cock was getting hard now and Justin moved to take care of it.

But Brian put his hand down to stop him. “Wait a minute.”

“Wait?” Justin frowned. “What for?”

“I need to talk to you about something.”

Justin blinked in disbelief. “You’re postponing a blowjob in order to talk? Are you feeling all right? I bought a thermometer while you were in the hospital. Let me get it and take your temperature!”

“I’m not sick! And I don’t need my fucking temperature taken!” Brian insisted. “But this is important.” He licked his lips, unsure of how to begin. “Yesterday, after I dropped you off at work, I went to see Gardner Vance.”

“But you said you were going to hit the mall on the biggest shopping day of the year!” Justin replied.

“I know. But I went to Vangard instead.”

“So that’s it,” said Justin. “I wondered why you didn’t buy anything. That’s not like you, Brian. I mean, to go shopping and not buy even a pair of socks. Or a new suit. Or a complete line of new kitchen appliances. Or...”

Brian put his hand over Justin’s mouth. “Will you shut the fuck up for two minutes while I say this? And don’t interrupt!”

Justin bit his lip. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“Anyway, I told Vance that I wanted to settle with him. So I’m taking his last offer. End of story.”

Justin tried to keep his face blank. He knew this was a major decision for Brian. But he also knew this wasn’t the end of the story. There had to be more. “I’m still listening.”

Brian cleared his throat. “I accepted the settlement because I’ve been offered a job at another firm. A public relations firm. In San Francisco.”

“In San Francisco?” Justin repeated.

“San Francisco,” Brian confirmed. “And I’m going to take it.”

“You’ve taken a job in San Francisco,” Justin stated. The more he said it, the more real it became.

“Yes. I start after the first of the year.”

This was big. Bigger than he’d imagined. The biggest, in fact. Justin swallowed. “Is... is there anything else you want to tell me, Brian?” He paused. “Or ask me?”

“Well.” Brian moved his tongue around inside his mouth, as if the words were hidden in his cheek and he was probing for them. “Yeah, but... I... I mean that... See, it’s like this...”

“Do you want me to go to San Francisco with you, Brian?” Justin asked simply.

“Yes,” he replied in relief. “I want you to go to San Francisco with me.”

Justin abruptly got off the bed.

“Where are you going?” Brian frowned.

Justin went to the closet and brought out his gym bag. Then he opened the bottom drawer of the dresser where his stuff was and pulled out one pair of briefs and a single white tee shirt. Then he took out a sweater and a folded pair of cargo pants. He shoved them all into the gym bag. Then he walked down to the dining room table and got his sketchpad and box of pencils. He returned to the bedroom and slipped them into the bag with the clothes.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Brian asked.

“Packing,” Justin said, zipping up the bag. “There. I’m done.”

“You’re done?”

Justin faced his lover. “This is all I need. I’m ready to go. Ready to follow you anywhere, any time, any place. All you had to do was ask me. But you already knew the answer. Didn’t you?”

Brian cast his eyes down. Justin thought he looked impossibly young. Impossibly beautiful. “I wasn’t sure.”

“Then be sure.” Justin lay back down on the bed next to Brian. “Never doubt it. I mean that. Because I fucking love you! Get that through your thick skull!”

“You’re a brutal, brutal taskmaster, Sunshine.” Brian smiled slowly. “I like that in a bossy twink.”

“You better believe it,” said Justin. “Now... where was I?”

“My cock.” Brian indicated his burgeoning erection.

“Ah, yes,” Justin laughed. “The fundamental things in life.”

“Always,” Brian agreed. “Something to be thankful for.”

“Yes,” said Justin. “Thankful.”

 

*FIN*


End file.
